


Bring Me to Life

by SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY



Series: HOLY Series [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, American Holiday season, Anxiety Attacks, Asexual Beelzebub (Good Omens), Asexual Dagon (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley being great dads, Beelzebub gets to fall in love and be loved, Deer Hunting, Family, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, No Smut, No big action sequences just a love story, Other, References to field dressing a deer, Strong Language, This story is very tame compared to everything else in this series, We're just here to get Beez some love, holiday romance, past trauma referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28614204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY
Summary: Third installment of the H.O.L.Y. Series. Six years after Book of Love, Aziraphale has a woman appear on his doorstep. She is frightened and has something important to share with Crowley. All their lives are about to change in the best way possibleEspecially Beez, as the new visitor is more than a little taken by them.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Dagon (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Series: HOLY Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095002
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Hello

**Author's Note:**

> The fic and the first chapters titles are Evanescence songs. Had someone request that I give Beez a happy ending after the way Book of Love left them, so here we go. Hope you all enjoy. 💚❤️
> 
>  **If my story looks familiar it’s because it probably is. I had a different AO3 account when I started writing. It got deleted for personal reasons and this new one started. All the fics from the old account got moved to here** ❤️💜💙🧡💚💛

**Tuesday November 25 3:15pm, 6 and a half years later**

“You always loved my magic tricks.” Aziraphale’s disappointment shows as he tucks the coin away in his pocket.

“Yeah, Pops, when I was a kid. Little too old for that now.” Adam walks his books into his bedroom, through the kitchen and to the left.

The boys are growing too fast. Their original titles of Poppa and Daddy, now replaced with Pops and Dad. It’s bittersweet watching their time as parents pass by much too quickly.

“I think it’s neat Ziwa.” Mabel pipes up, climbing into his lap. She’s young Harry’s three year old daughter, Sal’s granddaughter. Mabel stares up at him with beautiful green eyes, set off by strawberry blonde hair.

Young Harry is not so young anymore. Twenty-seven years old now, tall, handsome, thin and lanky, like his cousin Crowley. It’s hard to believe Aziraphale had been the same age the young man is now, when they’d met.

He had married his high school sweetheart, a girl named Amy, their senior year of college. Mabel had come two years later. Harry is now the local band director at the high school, and Amy a nurse.

Sal’s other boy, Greg, lives overseas in Japan. Working for a video game company, he develops the coding, creating the images players see as they game. He is getting a few weeks off starting today, to fly home from Tokyo for the holidays. Sal is all abuzz. Greg is bringing a lady friend with him. Sal and Jake are leaving after work today to pick them up.

Aziraphale babysits Mabel during the week for Harry and Amy. Sal still has another nine years until they can retire from the prison, so they’re unavailable. Aziraphale’s offered to help keep them financially, along with everyone else that he considers close family, but none will accept. So he helps where he can, and if that means he has the privilege of spending five days a week with a little Mabel he definitely will not complain.

“Thank you, sweet one.” Aziraphale kisses her atop the head before setting her on the cushion beside him and stands up. “Now what would you two like for dinner?”

The bus had dropped Adam off fifteen minutes ago. Aziraphale has another two hours until Harry is done with afterschool band practice. He will bring Warlock home with him.

Students can join concert band in the sixth grade. After two years you become eligible to join the marching band. Both are required to be a band member of any sort, all other branches of band such as jazz and pep are optional. When Harry approached Warlock and Adam about joining, Warlock jumped at the opportunity, but Adam said he’d prefer football.

“I don’t care Pops. Whatever you think.” Adam steps into the living room, just as someone knocks on the front door.

Aziraphale turns from where he now stands in the kitchen doorway and makes his way to the living room window. “I didn’t hear anyone come up the drive. Did you?”

He turns to his son, who shrugs jutting out his lip, while shaking his head. “No _p_ e..”

Aziraphale smiles as the boy over accentuates the “p” like his dad. Looking outside to his left he notices a beat up sedan behind his new Impala in the driveway. Turning to the right at the front door, stands a slender woman with red hair.

He hums to himself, pulling away from the window. She knocks again just as Aziraphale touches the handle to pull it open.

“Can I help you?” He asks as kindly as possible. She looks nervous, actually terrified would be a better description. The pupils of her hazel eyes blown wide.

“Anthony Crowley?” She tilts her head to the side, looking him over quickly. As if trying to determine if she’s in the right place.

“No, dear girl. He co-owns a business in town and is currently there.” Something about her mannerisms seem familiar. The way she shoves her hands in her pockets and hunches her shoulders forward to appear smaller. Aziraphale just can’t put his finger on it. “I’m his husband, Aziraphale.”

“His husband?” She says softly. Her face relaxes and brightens. “They didn’t ruin him then.”

“Ruin him?” Aziraphale steps outside, closing the door behind him, placing a barrier between the woman and the children inside. “Who exactly are you?”

“About that.” She laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “You know, I’d really like to tell him myself.”

Aziraphale stares her down. “I do not feel comfortable inviting you into my home until I know your name, and why you’re here.”

“S’fine.” She puts both hands back in her pockets. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d let me be the one to tell your husband once he’s here.”

Aziraphale raises his eyebrows, waiting for whatever news this woman needs to tell Crowley. Taking a deep breath in and out she offers her hand. “M’name’s Dagon. Dagon Crowley.

When Aziraphale doesn’t move or speak she pulls her hand back, lowering her eyes to her feet. “Your husband is my brother.”

* * *

Crowley sits behind his desk in his shared office, at **Beez and Ant’s Mechanical**. He’d been surprised when Beez had permitted the specific name change, but he’s pretty sure they didn’t find it as funny as he did.

Beez is perched at the edge of the desk near him, both going over the figures on his computer screen.

“We should be able to give each $1000 bonus before Christmas with the profits we’ve made this year.” Crowley notices Beez grimace. “I can give most of it from my share. You know they deserve it.”

“They do.” Beez nods. “It’s just a lot. That’s $3000 total.”

“I’d never put you in debt. Aziraphale’d kill me.” He reassures jokingly. His cell phone lights up showing Aziraphale’s name. “Speak of the Angel.” Tapping the speaker. “Hey dove.”

“Anthony, you need to come home.” Aziraphale sounds either excited or stressed. It’s hard to tell when Crowley can’t see his face.

“What happened?” Beez gives him a concerned glance. Crowley turns the phone off speaker and put it to his ear. “The boys okay?”

“They’re fine dear. Someone has come to the house. They said they need to speak with you.” _Why’s he being so vague? Something’s wrong_. “They asked I not tell you why they’re here. They wish to speak with you face-to-face.”

A forgotten panic rises in Crowley’s chest, one he hasn’t felt in over a decade. “Are you safe, Aziraphale?” Is it someone from _‘before’_ again? “Do I need to call Andrew?”

“None of that dear.” Aziraphale laughs. “This one doesn’t involve anyone I once knew, this involves people you once new. Just please come home. Drive slowly, it’s not an emergency.”

Crowley is already throwing on his jacket, Beez at his heels. “Aziraphale just explain if you can. You’re scaring me.”

“Calm down, dearest. I’m not confirming that you’ll be happy about it immediately, but I think you should give her a chance.” Crowley can hear a female voice in the background. “Do be careful. I love you.”

“Aziraphale....” The line goes dead. “Oh, yeah Angel, that’s going to keep me calm.” He mumbles pulling out his keys and power walks to his car.

“What’s going on?” Beez already unlocking the door of their Camaro.

“Dunno. He said someone was at the house, but he can’t tell me more than that.” Crowley opens the door of his Dodge Challenger and slides inside. He looks to Beez, ready to follow. Nodding in their direction. _Power in numbers, I suppose._

* * *

The drive from the shop to home normally takes ten to fifteen minutes. Aziraphale watches as two high-performance vehicles speed up his driveway in less than eight. He knows hanging up on Crowley was probably not the best way to end the conversation, but the stubborn man wouldn’t just do as Aziraphale had asked.

“I best go out to meet him.” He pats a nervous Dagon on the shoulder, as she glances up from where she sits on the sofa. “He can be a bit over-the-top, and it seems he’s brought back-up.”

Leaving her and stepping into the porch, Aziraphale notices Crowley, trunk of his car open, leaning inside to retrieve something.

“That really is not necessary.” Aziraphale scolds as Crowley slams the trunk, tire iron in hand.

“No? Then what were the dramatics all about?” Crowley stalks towards him, Beez on his heels.

“I wasn’t dramatic.” Aziraphale reaches out, snatching the tire iron from his husband‘s hand. “Now calm yourselves.” He glances to Beez. “Both of you.”

Aziraphale points behind himself to the living room window. “There is a very frightened woman on our living room sofa, who wishes to tell you something very important.” He drops the tire iron on the edge of the porch. Taking Crowley’s arm, the three of them walk to the door. “It will be shocking at first, but I hope you’ll come to find it as wonderful as I do. Once you fully hear her story.”

Stepping to the archway, Aziraphale releases Crowley’s arm and steps over to Dagon. He offers a hand to help her stand. Once she’s up he moves his hand supportively to her shoulder. “Tell him, dear. He’s not as scary as he looks.”

Not that Aziraphale has ever found Crowley to be scary. Intimidatingly stunning, or aggressively sexy are better descriptors. Now in his mid-forties, Crowley is still lean and fit. His red hair remains blazing and beautiful as it falls around his shoulders. He no longer dons the mechanics uniform at work. As an owner, he dresses in his customary black jeans, T-shirts, snakeskin boots and leather jacket. His sunglasses cover his golden eyes, since they’ve have been growing more sensitive over the past few years.

Dagon wipes her hands on her jeans. “Uh, yeah.” She offers her right hand. Crowley must notice the way it trembles, his scowl softening into a confused frown. “My names Dagon Crowley. I’m your sister.

Crowley shakes the offered hand and moves his sunglasses into his hair. “How? You’re practically my age. I wasn’t kicked out until I was thirteen.”

“Oh that.” She shoves her hands into her jeans pockets, drawing her shoulders forward.

_Just like her brother_. Aziraphale smiles.

“I guess I should say half-sister, then?” Her face tenses and she sounds unsure of herself. “We share a father. I have a different mother.” She pales and lowers herself back onto the sofa. “I know people don’t like to suddenly find out their dad slept around on their mom.”

Crowley takes a seat in one of the two large plush recliner’s that now sit perpendicular to the sofa, facing the TV. He had bought them eleven years ago replacing the loveseat, so that he and Aziraphale had a place to rock their new babies. The furniture has held up quite well. Warlock and Adam now refer to them as Dad and Pops’ thrones.

“S’not much of a shock.” Crowley chuckles laying his glasses on the small end table by his chair. “Did you know him at all?” His demeanor is relaxed and sympathetic. It’s similar to how he speaks to Aziraphale on his ‘bad’ days.

“A few times, he frequented the house a lot when I was really young.” Dagon nods, leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped out in front of her. “Course he wasn’t there to see me. He was there to trade mom meth for _payment_.“

On the last word, Dagon lifts her hands, flexing her index and middle fingers in air quotations.

“Yeah, that sounds like him.” Crowley reaches out for Aziraphale to take his hand. The blond quickly complies, settling himself on the arm of the recliner. If his husband needs him close for this, then that’s where he’ll be.

Crowley weaves his fingers with Aziraphale’s and continues. “My grandparents.” He waves his free hand in a circular pattern. “My mom’s parents, and my aunts and uncles, kept me as much as they could when I was little.” Aziraphale feels his grip tighten. “Course, mom and dad, would eventually come to get me.” His face twists in disgust. “My cousins didn’t get to come over when I was there, and all my parents did was fight and pass out. They gave me over completely to my grandparents when I was 13. Haven’t seen either one of them since.”

Crowley leans forward, voice gentle. “You know dad died, right?”

“Yeah, I heard.” Dagon looks unsure as to whether or not she should be giving condolences. “But I wasn’t interested in reconnecting with him. I wanted to meet you.”

“Why?” Beez breaks in from where they lean against the archway.

Dagon turns to them, surprised. “Sorry?”

“Why? What makes you want to find your brother after all these years?” Beez’s arms are crossed over their chest, eyes drawn.

“Um.” Dagon suddenly appears to have trouble swallowing and Aziraphale shoots Beez a stern look, which they totally ignore.

“My mom died two years ago.” Dagon’s gaze turns from Beez and back to Crowley. Her eyes periodically flicking to the small angry person to her left. “I was tired of being alone.” She points to Crowley. “Once I worked up the nerve to do so, I came to find you.”

Little Mabel picks this moment to come bursting through the kitchen, Adam following immediately behind. “Sorry Pops, she got tired of watching me play video games.”

“Hi ya Crowee!” The toddler rambles into Crowley’s lap. Once situated she points to Dagon. “Who’s dat?”

“Well surprise! I get a sister for Thanksgiving, Maybe Baby.” Crowley bounces his knee, resulting in high pitch giggles.

“I got an aunt?” Adam takes a seat in Aziraphale’s recliner, positioned closest to the sofa.

Dagon nods relaxing a little. “Are these your children?”

“Adam is, his brother is at band concert practice at the school. They’re twins.” Crowley’s chest puffs proudly. “Fraternal twins, they look nothing alike. But they’re great kids.” He scrunches his nose playfully and looks to the toddler, giggling on his bouncing knee. “Mabel here is my cousin. Aziraphale watches her while her parents work.”

Beez grunts from the archway. Aziraphale looks to them and can see the mounting annoyance overtaking their features.

“Did you come to spend Thanksgiving with us?” Adam seems extremely interested in his new family member.

“I would love that, but I also wouldn’t want to impose.” Dagon’s face lights up so brightly at the suggestion that Aziraphale feels they must have her around for the festivities.

“You wouldn’t be imposing at all, would she Anthony?” Aziraphale smiles sweetly, Crowley looking up searching his eyes.

“Nope, we’d love to have you.” Crowley turns his attention back to Dagon. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yeah, sorta. Just moved here in a way.” Dagon tilts her head from side to side.

“What do ya mean. ‘In a way’?” Beez breaks in again, rather rudely in Aziraphale’s opinion. He gives them an exasperated look. Beez continues to ignore him.

The woman’s face turns red as her hair. “Well, I currently live out of my car.” She wheezes out an embarrassed laugh. “Looking for a place. Lost the house mom and I had in Wellston.”

“Well that just won’t do.” Aziraphale sounds as scandalized as he feels. This poor woman, his Anthony’s own sister, having suffered so much, without ever having a family to help. Aziraphale is determined this will end today. Glancing down at Crowley he can see the same sentiment in his husband’s eyes.

“You’ll stay with us.” Crowley says, before Aziraphale has a chance. “Until you get a job and a place of your own. Do you have any special skills?”

“I don’t even have a high school diploma.” The crimson on her neck and face darkening. “I didn’t exactly have the most supportive childhood. And mom had other uses for me.” She returns her gaze to the floor.

At Dagon’s vague confession, Aziraphale hears Beez suck in a deep breath. Looking over he notices their face soften. “You live in a car, do you know how to work on one?”

The rest of the room turn to look at Beez, shocked at the sudden change in demeanor.

“I do.” Dagon looks to them hopefully.

Beez lets their arms drop to their sides. “I don’t just mean oil changes and maintenance.” They gesture between themselves and Crowley. “At our shop we do everything, even body work.”

“I can learn.” Dagon begins to come alive a little more. “I’m actually a good student, was just never given any opportunities.”

Beez nods, then turns their attention back to Crowley. “Can I speak with you?” They glance once more to Dagon, then back to their business partner. “Alone.”

* * *

Beez is beyond conflicted. They would never admit it to Crowley, but he, Zira, Adam and Warlock are the most important people in their life. They feel strongly protective of the family, especially with everything all of them have been through together.

Now this Dagon appears out of nowhere claiming to be Crowley’s relation. Is she connected with someone from Zira’s past and Crowley isn’t really her surname? Is she actually Crowley’s sister, but there to scam him out of money? A combination of the two? Or is she actually who she says she is, here for the reasons she claims?

Beez had decided they were having none of this woman’s nonsense, until ”Mom had other uses for me.” Something in those words, and Dagon‘s body language reminded Beez of Zira.

They and Crowley stroll to the pond. The weather has been cold the past two weeks, and ice is forming on the surface of the water. A light dusting of snow covers the brown pine needles beneath their feet.

“You let your guard down awfully fast.” Beez kicks a pinecone down the embankment. “You sure that’s safe?”

“Probably not.” Crowley shrugs. “At least not if it were someone else.” He stops walking gazing off to the forest. “But she’s my sister.”

“That’s just it.” Beez steps in front of him, in an attempt to get him to look at them. “How do you know? She could be lying about her surname.

Crowley bobs his head side to side considering. “She could be.” He stills his movement to make eye contact with Beez. “But she looks like dad.”

“And you’re not just projecting what you want to see?” Taking a deep breath, Beez hopes what they’re about to say doesn’t come out wrong. “You’ve been with Zira for a long time now, and he’s made you soft.” Noticing the tension in Crowley‘s jaw, they hold their hands up in apology. “That’s not a bad thing. He’s made me softer too.”

“What’s your point?” Crowley sounds more annoyed than angry. It’s hard to tell for sure with his sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Maybe you sympathize with her so much, you want to believe, so you can help her?” Beez doesn’t believe a word of their own argument. They trust the woman too, even against their better judgment. “Zira has made us both kinder people.”

“He has.” Crowley leans against one of the monstrous pines. “He’s also the reason I trust her. Because Aziraphale trusts her.”

Beez can’t argue. A blessing that has come out of Aziraphale’s tortured past, he is now an impeccable judge of character.

“I accept that.” Beez concedes. “Just promise you’ll have Andrew check her background.”

“Deal.” Crowley pushes away from the tree and begins his walk back to the house. “We really gonna give her a job?”

Beez, already decided they want to train Dagon themself. “We are.”

* * *

**9:30pm**

Dagon had no idea how her day would end up when she first knocked on the red wooden door. The house looks spacious from the outside. Not large, but also not small. She found upon entering, most of the area is Aziraphale’s personal library. The rest of the house is just large enough for four people to live, but small enough they are forced to interact. Although none of them seemed they would need to be forced together. Dagon finds it beautiful, how this group of Crowleys appear to truly love each other.

Looking out the living room window, she has to ask a question that has bothered her all day. “Why do you park your two very nice cars under a carport, when you have a large garage just over there?” She points through the curtains to the area of the yard to her right.

“The garage houses my vintage cars.” Crowley steps beside her, preening. “I rebuild them myself. You wanna see?”

“Maybe tomorrow love.” Aziraphale steps from the back hallway with an armful of sheets, pillows and a comforter. “You both have work tomorrow,” he winks at Dagon, “and the boys have school.”

Warlock has graciously agreed to sleep on the couch, allowing Dagon to take his bed. He flops himself onto the sheet before his Pops can get it smoothed out. “So how long you been looking for us?”

Dagon reaches a hand to help Aziraphale with the bedding. “Not long. My mom told me about your dad two years ago.” She looks to Crowley apologetically. “Sorry it took me so long to work up the nerve to say hi.”

“S’alright.” Crowley’s mouth quirks in a half smile. “I’d have been scared too.”

Dagon moves her eyes back to Warlock. “I didn’t know the rest of you existed until today.” She smiles at her brother. “I’m really happy to see one of us turned out better than our parents.”

She means it, every word of it. Crowley’s family is amazing. Dagon won’t have this, no one wants to put up with her, and her quirks. Every relationship she’s ever had ends badly, because they either leave her, or try to force her to give what she doesn’t want to give.

“Oh shush.” Aziraphale offers his arm. “You seem to be a wonderful person.”

Dagon happily accepts the offer and allows him to lead her to Warlock’s bedroom door, positioned in the center of the living room’s back wall. “I hope to be someday.”

Adam enters the living room, through the archway. Addressing Dagon he says. “Goodnight.” To his brother. “I’m done in the bathroom. Your turn.”

“Night Dagon!” Warlock calls behind him as he bounds down the hallway.

“Goodnight!” She calls and turns to the open bedroom door. It’s a wooden door, newer than a lot of the wood throughout the rest of the house, minus Adam’s room and Aziraphale’s library. The flooring in the bedroom is hardwood, just like the rest of the house. A large walk-in closet is to her left, a single twin bed against the far right of the back wall, a dresser immediately to the right by the door, the computer and homework desk in the center of the back wall to the left of the bed.

“Do you have anything for us to bring in from your car?” Crowley asks, entering the doorway behind Aziraphale, placing his hands on his husband’s shoulders.

Dagon suddenly remembers the two bags, containing everything she owns. “Two duffel bags in my car. One is dirty clothes I haven’t got to wash yet.” Both men move out of the doorway as she steps past them. “But I’ll go get the fresh bag. You won’t know which is which.”

“Wait.” Aziraphale stops her. Looking to his husband. “Anthony, will you go fetch both bags?” He turns back to her, and she can see why her brother fell in love. The man’s smile is absolutely beautiful. “I plan on doing laundry tomorrow anyway.”

“Don’t go to all the trouble.” She starts, but Crowley is already out the door.

Aziraphale takes her hand between his. “You just place what needs washed outside the door.”

“Thank you.” Who are these people? How did someone who came from the same useless father as herself, become such a normal person? With a picture perfect family?

“These are pretty light.” Crowley returns, purple and blue duffel bags on his shoulders. “Is this really all you have?”

“Everything.” She looks to Aziraphale. “The blue one is the dirty stuff.”

The lovely blond takes the blue bag from Crowley and walks down the hallway to the laundry room. Dagon looks up at her brother in awe. “He’s wonderful.”

“That he is.” They walk together to place her bag on the bed in her temporary room. “And I have no fucking clue why he settles for me.” He whispers so only she can hear him.

“Neither do I.” She teases, stepping over to the bed, pulling a digital alarm clock from her bag. “When will be the best time for me to shower in the morning, so I’m out of the way?”

Crowley stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder leaning against the frame. “We have a relatively set morning routine. Aziraphale and I wake up at 5AM. Harry drops Mabel off around 5:30, We get her fed, then make something for the boys. Adam and Warlock are up by 5:45. They get ready, eat and catch the bus at 6:25. After that Aziraphale takes a shower, followed by me, then we both watch the morning news shows until I have to leave at 8:45.” He shrugs. “So I guess anytime after 7:30 as long as you’re ready to leave by 8:45.”

He pauses a moment to think. “Or you can shower tonight, once Warlock is out of the bathroom. You’ll come home tomorrow grimy and want to shower again. I always took two showers a day, but I didn’t know if you’d wanna do that.”

“I’ll shower in the morning.” Her thoughts drifting to the stern, but kind dark haired person she’d spent a good deal of her afterwards and evening around. “I wanna make a good impression on Beez.”

Crowley laughs through his nose. “Good luck with that. They’re a hard egg to crack.”

“Oh.” Dagon does nothing to hide the disappointment in her voice. “I’d like to try.”

“Is that so?” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “I’ll do my best to help with that. And they consider Aziraphale to be a brother.”

Dagon’s face grows warm. “I meant professionally of course.”

“Of course, of course.” Crowley bobs his head exaggeratedly. “S’cuse me Beez, Dagon only kept staring at you with doe eyes all evening, because she wants to be employee of the month.”

“Shut up.” She turns back to her bag, making a point of avoiding his gaze. “You’re embracing the role of annoying big brother fantastically.”

“I saw it, Aziraphale saw it, but don’t worry. I don’t think Beez noticed at all.” Crowley’s voice keeps its teasing edge. “They’ll be at Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday.”

“Yeah?” Dagon pretends not to care.

“Anthony, they boys are in bed. Join me and let Dagon get her sleep.” Aziraphale calls from their bedroom door.

“Coming dove.” Crowley calls to his husband before looking back to Dagon. “Yeah they will be. Goodnight little sister. Glad you’re here.”

So am I. Dagon thinks as Crowley closes the door behind him. So am I.


	2. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagon and Beez find it very easy to be comfortable around one another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is an Imagine Dragons song.

**Wednesday, November 26, 12:34AM**

The metallic screech and click of the screen door pulls Crowley from an uncomfortable dream. Running his hands over his face, he glances to his right. Aziraphale lay on his stomach, face turned toward Crowley, hands nestled under his pillow. He has crows feet in the corners of his eyes from years of smiling, and small laugh lines around his mouth. Aziraphale looks the same as when Crowley met him with just these few lovely additions. _He’s perfect._

Crowley hears the sound of footsteps on the porch and he remembers the noise that woke him. Slipping into his sweatpants, and his husband‘s black hoodie, he silently makes his way to the foyer.

The front door is ajar. Crowley puts his hand on the brass knob and glances to his left. Warlock is sound asleep on his stomach, arm hanging over the side of the couch, his knuckles touching the floor. The child’s mouth slack open, allowing small snores to escape.

Crowley releases the door, stepping over to his son, and picks up a half empty water bottle on the floor by the sofa. If Dagon’s doing what Crowley’s fairly certain she’s doing, this will help her not incur the wrath of an angel.

As quietly as possible, Crowley makes his way back through the living room and onto the porch. Dagon sits in one of the two red wooden rocking chairs, in front of the living room window. She turns to Crowley, pulling the cigarette from her lips.

“Did I wake you?” Her forehead tenses, lines forming over the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah, ya did. But I’m glad for it. Wasn’t having the best dream.” Crowley hands her the half full plastic bottle. “Put your cigarettes out in that. Aziraphale doesn’t like that stuff in the yard.”

She reaches for the bottle, mouth close tight in a smile. “Thanks. You smoke?”

Crowley takes a seat on the rocking chair to her left. “Not s’posed to.” Glancing quickly to the door, making sure no one else is listening. “I started about eight years back. Was under a lot of stress. Probably wasn’t the best way to cope, but there are worse ways, you know?”

Dagon nods her head. “Yeah, I know.” She holds one out to him, along with a lighter. Crowley gives another quick look to the door, then accepts.

“Haven’t had one in two months.” Crowley takes a drag and hands the lighter back to Dagon. “Aziraphale loves me, worries about me. He’d never force me to quit.” Crowley’s heart still flutters at the thought of the sweet, fussy man in his bed. “But he’s not against nagging me into submission.”

They both chuckled quietly. Dagon watches his expressions as he speaks. “You don’t seem bothered by that.”

“I’m not.” Crowley takes another deep breath of nicotine and smoke. “He loves me. And I’m damn lucky he does.” Looking up into the cold night sky. “I hope he never stops.”

“Nagging or loving you?” Dagon flicks her ashes into the mouth of the bottle.

“They’re the same thing, really.” Crowley’s smile brightens, he repeats Dagon’s action with the ashes. “It’s nice knowing he wants to keep me around so badly.”

“How’d you meet him? And what’s with the accent?” She drops the butt of the cigarette into the water.

“He’s from London.” Crowley props the calf of his left leg over top his right knee. “I’m surprised he hasn’t lost the accent. He’s been in the US for over twenty years.”

“How’d he end up in Oak Hill of all places?” Dagon’s voice and expression a mixture of confusion and astonishment.

“Cause someone else was too violent, stupid and selfish to appreciate how blessed they were to know him.” Crowley aches at the thought. He knows if Gabriel hadn’t been such an asshole, or if Aziraphale had never met the evil bastard, Crowley wouldn’t have the privilege of holding his Angel every night. Aches that Crowley’s greatest blessing was born from Aziraphale’s greatest pain.

Dagon studies him for a moment before her eyes drift to the tire iron propped against the porch. “Was that why you came charging to the house with...?”

“Nah, that threat is gone. But there have been others.” Crowley drops his cigarette butt into the bottle. “We’ve fought hard to be together.” He picks at the fabric of his sweatpants. “Two of those reasons were recently released from prison.”

Actually, Ligur’s been out for four years now, but Hastur was released ten days prior. Crowley’s heard nothing from or about either of them. Aziraphale’s certain they will avoid the area. Or at least, that’s what he says. But Crowley notices the ways his Angel checks the locks more often or wakes throughout the night to look in on Warlock and Adam.

Dagon looks at him with sympathy as he stands. He waves off her concerns. “We handled it before. We can again if need be.” He smiles as reassuringly as he can, gesturing with his head to the door. “C’mon. We need to get some sleep.”

She tucks her pack into her sweater pocket and follows him into the house. Crowley locks the door behind him, as Dagon creeps quietly into Warlock’s room. Once he’s certain everything is secure, Crowley slips into his bedroom, and slides under the covers.

“You smell like an ashtray.” Aziraphale huffs, beautiful blue eyes watching him blearily.

“Do I?” Crowley tries, unconvincingly, at innocence.

“Come here, darling.” Aziraphale pulls him down against his chest, stroking his fingers through long red hair. “But we will be having a lengthy discussion about this tomorrow.”

Crowley nestles his face in soft blond chest hair. “I’d hope for nothing less, Angel.”

* * *

**Wednesday, November 26, 8:15AM**

Beez unlocks the door of the shop, making a beeline for the thermostat. The temperature has dropped significantly in the last four hours from low 40°F, into the upper teens.

“That’s Ohio for ya.” They grumble into the silence, flicking on the lights. Unlocking their and Crowley’s office and stepping inside, they press the power on their computer tower, then enter the small storage room in the back.

Under the shelf by the door, they pull out the large cardboard box of old uniforms. Sifting through to find something that might fit Dagon, Beez spies Crowley’s old coveralls. Holding them up and shaking the old, gray, stained uniform out, they look it over.

“It should fit. She’ll just need to hem it in the legs.” Beez chatters to themself, carrying the gray overalls to their desk. Opening the middle drawer, they take a small set of scissors and cut away the stitching of the patch with the name Anthony. “I’ll make her a new patch this weekend.”

Beez doesn’t normally talk to themselves. But after their and Crowley’s conversation by the pond, and the agreement to hire Dagon, something in the way the red haired woman looked at them changed. Shifted in a way that has put Beez on edge.

People don’t look at Beez like that. It reminds them of that dopey ass stare Crowley gives Zira. Beez knows what that look means, they know there was a time they made the same stupid face at Chalky. Chalky never looked at them like that back.

It’s a look that never ends well when it involves Beez. Heartbreak always follows it. Even if Dagon is honest (and Beez is more than certain she is) they worry about putting a wedge between themself and Zira and Crowley.

“Getting involved with Crowley’s sister and it going to shit, would definitely cause that wedge.”

“What’s that?”

Beez jumps at the sound of Newt’s voice carrying from the front lobby.

“Nothing.” They stalk to the office’s open doorway. “Talking out loud about finances. Hired a newbie yesterday. Fittin’ her into the payroll.”

Newt is out of their line of vision, ducked behind the counter, turning the combination on the safe. Beez had tried installing a digital safe, but the moment Newt had touch the damn thing it started to smoke. Beez really doesn’t think that should have been possible. Two hours later, after breaking into it with a welding torch, they brought the old combination safe back.

“Neat.” Newt pops back into view, till in hand. Setting it on the counter, he begins counting to ensure it’s exactly $100. “Who is it?”

“I guess she’s originally from Wellston.” Beez debates whether to tell him everything. _What the Hell?_ “She claims to be Crowley’s illegitimate sister.”

“What?!” Newt’s eye bulge as he drops a roll of quarters with a loud clank. “When did this happen? Why doesn’t Anathema know?” His eyes squint. “Does Anathema know?”

“No.” Beez smiles smugly. “Anathema doesn’t know. She just showed up yesterday. That’s why me and Crowley left in such a hurry.”

“Wondered why Jake locked up.” Newt looks put out. “Why does he have keys, and Jordan and I don’t?”

“He doesn’t.” Beez walks back into their office. “Sal does, they just chose to keep them on Jake.”

They flop into the chair behind their computer screen, going over today’s schedule. Not that there is much of one. Last week they and Crowley had come to work in Carhartt coveralls and old clothes and helped bust out the five cars on the docket. Leaving them with two oil changes scheduled for today, and then they’re all caught up. Everyone should be leaving to start the holiday weekend by 1:00PM.

Beez will need to drive to the bank before it closes at noon, to have $1000 deposited into each employee’s account. They look up as Crowley and Dagon step into the office.

“Hey, glad you’re both here.” Beez beckons for Dagon to approach their desk. “I need your banking info to set up your direct deposit.” They reach into the stack of shelves behind them pulling out paperwork. “Plus, you need to fill out your W-2 paperwork and papers for insurance.”

With Crowley’s backing, Beez is finally capable of offering health and life insurance, and enough pay for the employees to live on comfortably. Zira helped them set up deferred comp accounts as well, permitting each employee the opportunity for a secure retirement.

“You won’t get any autobody work training today.” Beez continues, Dagon glances up from her writing. “We have two oil changes, but you’ll need to see if Jordan and Jake want your help.”

Dagon nods, biting her lip. “I don’t have a bank account. So, what do I do about my paycheck?”

“You open one.” Beez shrugs. “No big deal. I got some business at the bank, you can ride with me.”

Beez ignores Crowley’s smile, but can’t ignore the way Dagon’s features fall as she looks down. “What?”

“How much do I need to open an account?” She stares hard at her paperwork.

“I think it’s fifty for a personal account.” Crowley’s already reaching for his wallet.

Dagon doesn’t look up. “Can I just get my first pay by check and after that by direct deposit?”

She startles as Crowley, suddenly beside her, holds two $100 bills in front of her face. Dagon looks up at him stunned, shaking her head no.

“Just take it.” Crowley drops the money on top of her paperwork. “Call it an early Christmas present.”

“Thank you.” Dagon’s hazel green eyes shimmer. The words come out choked. “I’ll pay you back.”

“If you pay me back, it’s not a present.” Crowley slides his sunglasses on top his head before focusing on his computer screen.

“Now since we got all that settled.” Beez points to the paperwork under Dagon‘s hand. “Get that done so we can get today moving.”

They all set in relative silence for the next several minutes. The only sounds are the scrape of Dagon‘s pen on paper and the clack of computer keys. As Dagon signs her name to the final page, Jake steps into the office.

“Two questions.” He nods a “Hello” to Beez and Dagon before turning his full attention to Crowley. “What time we heading out in the morning, and what do you need us to bring? You know aside from the cobbler and deviled eggs we agreed to.”

“Well, suns up around 7:00, so we can’t be in the woods before 6:30 AM. I say be at the house around 6:00 if you want to eat breakfast with me. If not 6:30 is good.” Crowley leans back in his chair. “As for the other, what you’re bringin’ is plenty.” Crowley moves his glasses to the desk, and by the glint in his eyes, Beez knows he’s about to ask the question they’ve all been quietly wondering. “How’s the houseguest?”

Greg’s never really dated. So the fact that he’s brought a significant friend home is beyond a huge deal.

“She’s great.” Jake beams. “I think me and Sal embarrass Greg a little though. But if we’re committing any faux pas, Airi’s much too polite to let on.”

Jake and Sal moved in together five years prior. Crowley’s happy to see them find someone who treats them and their sons well.

“If you are, Greg’ll speak up.” Beez chimes in. “Neither of y’all’s boys are shy about speaking their minds.”

Beez plays tough, but they do enjoy down low making people feel good. And their words have the effect they’d hoped for. They pretend not to notice the way Jake’s chest swells at the reference of Greg and Harry being his boys as well as Sal’s.

“That they’re not.” Jake’s smile threatening to crack his face.

“Oh.” Crowley draws Jake’s attention back. “Let Newt and Jordan know we’re gonna deposit your holiday bonuses this morning. Hopefully it’ll post in time for Black Friday.”

_Oh no._ Beez thinks in amusement. _That’s too much happy all at once. The man’s face is gonna break._

“Thanks!” He steps across the room to give Crowley some sort of hi-five, morphing into a handshake, that results in pulling each other into a hug, with back pats as the finale.

“No problem.” Crowley sprawls back into the chair when they separate.

“Lovely.” Beez takes on their customary sneer. “Is Jordan here?”

Jake nods.

“Good, go find something to do until Jameson gets here with his car.” They hold out their hand, accepting Dagon’s paperwork. “I need to get to the bank.”

* * *

“This is a nice car.” Dagon runs her hand over the black interior, practically yelling over the sound of the music.

“Thanks. Traded my last one in on this one three years ago.” Beez turns the volume down, caressing their thumbs across the steering wheel. “I’ve owned a Camaro ever since I could afford to buy my own car.”

“Hard core Chevy person, are ya?” Dagon smiles, watching out the window as thick flakes of snow begin to fall. She’s always found it entertaining how car people have rivalries among brands.

“It is my personal preference.” Beez’s nose curls. They know the game Dagon is trying to play, and they won’t be baited. “I don’t begrudge your brother for his obvious fondness of Dodge.” They hold up the index finger of the right hand, voice taking on a slightly higher pitch. “Although, he did own a Chevy between his Ram and his Challenger.”

“I’m guessing Aziraphale had something to do with that.” Dagon muses. “Seeing as how he’s got that Impala.”

_This is fun. They’re fun._ Dagon thinks. She’s struck by Beez, but she also knows that this is shaky ground. She’s just getting to know her brother. Is it selfish to take a liking to one of his closest family friends?

“Aziraphale’s always been the sensible one.” The look in Beez’s eyes devilish. “And I hope you tell Crowley I said that.“

Dagon laughs, scolding herself internally. _What makes you think Beez would want you around too much anyway?_

The car pulls into a nearly covered parking spot. The snow has started falling in thick swooping whirls.

“If this keeps up I look for the schools to let out early.” Beez tilts their head back, white contrasting starkly, as it settles in their dark hair.

“I’ve always loved snow.” Dagon pulls her eyes away from the stern, but interesting person beside her. She opens her mouth to catch a flake, delighted to feel the delicate crystals melt on her tongue.

Opening her eyes, she sees Beez standing at the glass entrance with a look of pure amusement. Almost like they want to laugh and are fighting to hold it in.

“After you.” They pull against the glass and watch as Dagon walks past.

“Sorry.” She drops her head, embarrassed.

“Don’t be.” Beez takes a spot in the line behind her. “You’re a lot more interesting than I thought you’d be.”

“Really?” Dagon turns to them, attempting to not look as hopeful as she feels.

Beez blushes a gorgeous red, schooling their features in an unconvincing stern countenance. “Well entertaining. More entertaining.” Obviously flustered. “In comparison to your brother.”

“Why do you pretend that you don’t like Anthony?” Dagon tries to hide how much she enjoys seeing Beez like this.

“It’s what we do. If I was nice to him, he did think I was mad.” They thrust their chin up. “Why do you get to call him Anthony? Only Zira does that.”

“We’re both Crowley’s.” Dagon states matter-of-factly. “Feel weird to call him by my last name.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why do you call Aziraphale, Zira? From what I can tell only you and a toddler who can’t pronounce his full name do that.”

“Because I can.” Beez’s body language is defensive but the smirk and spark in their eyes, tells Dagon something much more playful is happening between the two of them.

“Can I help you?” Dagon startles. Spinning to face the counter, she realizes the line ahead of her is gone.

“Sorry.” She rushes forward taking her wallet from her pocket and laying her driver’s license and $200 on the counter. “I’d like to open a checking account.”

Ten minutes later, both are finished with their business, and making their way to Beez’s car. The roads and lot are covered, a two inch deep blanket of white blanketing everything.

Dagon flips her new debit card between her fingers. She’s never had one before, never had a legit job that involve needing an account. Everything has always been under the table. Un-taxable.

“Are you after the money?” Beez clicks the key fob, causing the headlights to flash.

“What?” Dagon’s heart catches in her throat, she puts the card into her wallet and slips it into her pocket.

“Are you here for Zira’s money?” Beez leans against Dagon’s door, blocking her from getting inside. “So far I like you, but if I find out you’re using them, or lying about who you are, I’ll fry your ass myself.”

“I’m not here for Zira’s.......Aziraphale’s money.” She corrects herself when Beez’s brow raises at the use of the nickname. “I didn’t know Aziraphale existed before yesterday.”

“Then why aren’t you more confused by the question?” Beez refuses to budge. “If someone asked me that question in your situation, my first response would’ve been ‘What money?’ Your lack of confusion makes me think you knew already.”

“Have you seen him?” Dagon feels it’s obvious Aziraphale is upper- middle class. “I’ve been with them for about eighteen hours now. They have too many nice things to not be living comfortably.” She wants Beez to believe her so badly, her voice carries a hint of begging. “But I didn’t know before I met them, and that’s definitely not why I’m here. And I will be paying Anthony back the $200 I swear.”

_I’m trying to be a better person. Please give me that chance._

She’s relieved when Beez relaxes and steps away from her door. “You never said which brand is your favorite.”

“I’m good with anything but Chrysler.” Dagon smiles, thankful for the subject change. “Had a PT Cruiser once. Was a piece of shit.” Both slide into their seats.

Beez smiles. Not the strained face tension they normally give, but a broad, actual smile. “I’ve heard that. Faulty power steering.” They pull the car out of the lot and onto Main Street

“You didn’t hear wrong. Had to replace the power steering pump in the damn thing at least once a year.” Dagon sighs, remembering how happy she’d been to get rid of that pile of crap. “My dream vehicle is a Harley Davidson Softail.”

“A biker huh? Or do ya just wanna be?”

“I’ve got my motorcycle license.” Dagon watches as Beez grips the wheel tighter. “Had a Honda CB750 for a while. Bought the frame for $100, rebuilt it myself overtime.“ She preens. “Total cost to me was about $800, sold it for $2000. Was a nice starter bike. Do you ride?”

“I have a dirt bike I take muddin’.” Beez Concentrates heavily on the road. Dagon can feel the car slide every so often before Beez corrects. “Nothing street legal, no license for that.” After a few seconds, almost as an afterthought, they add. “Dated someone who had a Street Glide. They took me for a ride.”

The way Beez says that last sentence, leads Dagon to believe that there’s more than one meaning behind the words. They look hurt, a little broken and Dagon wants so badly to take their hand.

Instead she offers as kindly as possible. “I understand. Been taking for a few rides myself.”

Beez doesn’t turn to see the look in Dagon’s eyes, they’re too busy concentrating on the mess of highway. “These roads are bad. If Ted Rogers and Buck Jameson haven’t called to cancel those oil changes already, I’m going to.”

Dagon stays silent the rest of the ride so that Beez can focus. What’s normally a two minute drive, or even a ten minute walk, takes nearly twenty minutes.

The moment the car is parked, Beez is out of the vehicle, moving much too quickly. Dagon stands, shutting her own door as Beez loses their footing and disappears from sight with an “Oomph.”

“Oh shit!” Dagon shuffles around the drifts as quickly as possible, without falling herself. “You ok?”

She tries but fails to stifle a laugh. Beez is sprawled in a way that looks like they are attempting to make a snow angel, at least from what of their body can be seen. They are so small, that when they fell, the lower half of them actually slid underneath the car. They look at Dagon mortified. “Kill me now.”

“Uh, no way.” She shakes her head. “This might be one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Cute?!” They groan pushing themselves from beneath the vehicle. “Do not ever use that word when referring to me again. Nothing about me is cute.”

_You don’t see what I see._ Dagon offers her right hand to help Beez up. “What was I thinking?” She slaps her left hand to her forehead. “Of course you’re not cute. Terrifying is obviously the word I was looking for.”

“Extremely demonic.” Beez smirks, taking the offered hand.

“The single most evil being I’ve ever met.” She pulls them up, winding her arm around their waist to steady them. “Is this okay?”

Beez nods, holding onto Dagon in return. “Use my official title, Prince of Hell.”

“My liege.” Dagon holds them a little tighter as they walk to the shop doors. The cold air around them suddenly having lost its bite.


	3. Some of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow storm gets bad. Crowley, Dagon, Warlock and Adam find themselves in a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is an Eric Church song

**20 Minutes Earlier**

Crowley sits at his computer, completely unaware of the extreme weather change. That is, until his cell phone lights up with Aziraphale’s name, back dropped by flames curving into heart shapes.

“Sup, Angel?”

“Dear, they’re releasing the children from school early. Harry was going to bring them home when he came to get Mabel, but his car won’t start.” Aziraphale muffles the phone speaking to Mabel. “Yes, sweet girl, Crowley is going to rescue daddy, just give me a moment.” Returning to his husband. “Do you think you could retrieve the boys and help him out?”

“Will do. Tell Maybe Baby I said no worries. See you soon, Dove. Love you.” Crowley logs off the computer, shutting the office door behind him.

“I love you too, Anthony. Please be careful, it’s getting bad.” Aziraphale frets.

“Always am, Angel.” _Wouldn’t dream of leaving you._ He taps the red icon to end the call.

“Ted and Buck both called and rescheduled for Monday. Is it okay if we leave?” Jordan stands in the entranceway to the garage.

“Yeah, you and Newt should go.” Crowley looks around the lobby. “Where’s Jake?”

“M’right here.” Jake exits the employee restroom.

“Listen, I hate to ask, but can you hang around until Beez and Dagon get back?” Crowley does hate to ask. He knows Jake will want to be present for this rescue mission as much as he does. “School’s letting out early and Harry’s car won’t start.”

Jake goes for his jacket. “I’m coming with you.”

“Someone needs to stay here.” Crowley holds up a hand for him to wait. “Not only to tell Beez everyone went home, and Dagon I’ll be back for her, but for Beez to bring the tow truck if we need it.” He steps behind the counter. “Where’s the OBD scanner?”

“Oh, here.” Newt reaches into the small space between the top of the safe and the counter.

Crowley blocks his hand. “Let me grab it. I need it to work.” Newt backs away sheepishly. “Go get Agnes and Anathema.”

Newt’s daughter Agnes is two years younger than the twins. Anathema had named the dark-haired cutie after her great great great great grandmother. Supposedly the woman had been a witch that could foretell the future. Newt has some interesting stories about the two women in his life. Old Agnes‘ talents seem to have made their way to her descendants.

Eventually Crowley gets everyone but Jake out of the shop and is making the short trip to the high school.

In small population towns like Oak Hill, there aren’t enough children to maintain a middle school. Kindergarten through fifth grades are at the elementary school, six through twelfth grade at the high school. The entire high school only contains 320 students. Every kid knows one another, just as every adult does. The horrible part of this, whatever your reputation is in high school follows you throughout your life.

Crowley hopes things go easier on his sons than they had on him. He had been labeled the weirdo, because the bigotry in this town had been worse twenty years ago than what it is now. Didn’t have to be, if he forced himself to be something he wasn’t. The girls loved him and his weird ass eyes. If Crowley had been straight and more sexually driven, we might’ve been extremely popular.

After coming out to his parents, and the treatment that had gotten him, Crowley was careful about sharing his sexuality. That combined with the fact he has no interest in sex unless he’s in love, garnered him ridicule throughout his life.

By eighth grade, he tried to develop his bad boy rep. His eyes became a useful tool, giving him the whole scary snake persona. The closest thing he had to a friend, outside of his cousins, was Beez. They are two years older than him, and the only person not blood relation to stand up for him. They like to pretend they don’t like him, but the two of them had always stuck together. Beez is and has always been family.

Beez had taken over their father’s business after graduation, guaranteeing Crowley a job when he finished school two years later.

Of course, life is different now. He and Aziraphale may have stayed quiet about it at first, but the towns people started to notice changes in what and how much they owned. The fact that everyone knew they had money didn’t earn them any new friends, but it has earned their children a respite. This along with having a family member as a teacher, has meant neither Warlock nor Adam have dealt with unfair treatment from the faculty.

Their classmates are different story, but very few have in any way been cruel to the boys. The few times a slurred comment was made, school staff had handled it swiftly. It’s a relief for Crowley that his children won’t be forced to grow up as inhibited as he had been.

A steady line of cars pass Crowley’s as he pulls into the school lot. He drives beyond the first two lower parking areas, designated for students, and past the main building to the lot in the back, for faculty.

Crowley locates Harry’s dark blue Hyundai. He’s owned the sedan since college, letting Amy drive their new Tahoe every day. Harry’s reasoning is he only needs to drive to the high school, she has a 45 minute drive to Portsmouth and needs something reliable.

Parking his Challenger in the spot beside the Hyundai, Crowley sends Harry a quick text.

**Crowley:** _I’m here, by your car. Are Adam and Warlock with you?_

**Harry:** _Yeah, we’re hanging out in the band room_.

**Crowley:** _Good. Stay in where it’s warm. I’ll come to you for the keys._

Crowley carefully makes his way through the drifts. The outside entrance to the band room is on the backside of the school. Normally Crowley would’ve been able to see it from where he parked, but with the current weather he can barely see five feet in front of him.

He’s regretting not wearing a warmer jacket, but he wasn’t expecting to be out in the elements too long today. His fingers, nose and ears frozen, Crowley finally finds his way to the large, brown, metal double doors. Knocking as loudly as he can with fingers that feel brittle, he prepares to wait. Thank someone, Harry wastes no time opening the door and allowing him into the brightly lit classroom.

The room is large, but it has to be. Oak Hill’s marching band is roughly a third of the school’s population. More students try to join this group, than any other group organization at the school. Most have to work hard and show dedication to stay. Because of this the Marching Oaks are an anomaly, considered to be the only band in the area to rank as high as Jackson’s band. Which is no tiny feat for such a small school. Of the high school’s 320 students 95 of them are in the band.

“You look froze.” Harry ushers Crowley in, shutting the door behind him.

“I am.” Crowley glances around the room looking for his children. Awards cover the walls as well as photos from competitions. “Not dressed for the weather. Where are my kids?”

“Computer lab down the hall.” Harry points to the door leading into one of the school’s hallways. “Decided to knock out some Study Island assignments due on Monday.”

The corner of Crowley’s lip curls in a smirk. “Adam’s idea?”

Warlock isn’t as driven as his brother. Adam has some deep-seated drive to succeed, that his brother doesn’t possess. Both are very smart people, but Warlock seems to skim by with as little work as possible. Adam on the other hand feels he needs to be the best.

“You got it.” Harry nods, walking behind the long counter at the front of the classroom. “I have extra gloves, and a toboggan if you want.” He places a pair of leather gloves and winter cap on the counter. “I may even have a thicker coat in the back, if you want me to look.”

Crowley shakes his head, holding up a hand to stop him. “This’ll be enough, thanks.” Sliding on the gloves and headgear. “Don’t want to be here any longer than we need. Keys?”

Harry removes the lanyard from around his neck and offers it to Crowley.

“I’ll be back in soon.” Crowley zips his jacket and steps back into the cold. No matter how miserable the weather, it will be worth it once home. He's already preparing for an evening spent with his three favorite people in the world.

He and the children will put on their oldest, warmest clothes and spend an hour or two outside. Maybe Dagon will join them?

Afterwards they’ll come inside to hot cocoa and apple cider. Once the children are warm and settled in, he and Aziraphale will begin the cooking preparations for the next day.

And at bedtime, if he’s lucky, he can get a special treat for his current heroics in the snow. Crowley’s favorite way for his husband to warm him up and keep him warm.

Finding himself back at Harry’s vehicle, Crowley unlocks the driver side door and turns the ignition. Nothing happens, no lights, no noise, no radio. “Well, that narrows it down.”

He stands and walks to the rear of his Challenger, retrieving the battery charger from the trunk. He pops the hood of the Hyundai, attaching the charger to the cars battery post, then reaches under the steering column to plug in the OBD scanner.

A few minutes later, the car has enough charge to give Crowley the reading he needs. Relieved it isn’t the alternator he texts Beez.

**Crowley:** _We got any batteries for an eight-year-old Elantra?_

**Beez:** _No, but I can order one._

**Crowley:** _That’ll have to do._

He then texts Harry.

**Crowley:** _Grab the boys and come outside. I got your car running, whatever you do, don’t turn it off until you’re home._

**Harry:** 👍🏻

* * *

**11:20AM**

Beez and Dagon had stepped into the shop not ten minutes after Crowley’s departure. Jake called and told Harry to go straight home, and that he would take his F150 to get Mabel. Then he and Sal will drive to Portsmouth to make sure Amy makes it home safe as well.

Now, an hour later, Crowley’s Challenger parks in front of the shop.

“Your ride’s here.” Beez signals to Dagon, as they watch Crowley fight his way to the door. They’ve changed out of their wet clothes and put on an old set of uniform overalls.

“M’sorry I’ve held you up.” Dagon pulls her old wool jacket over her arms.

“You’re not holding me up. I plan on being here for a while longer anyway.” Beez texts someone on their phone. “Got something I wanna make sure gets done before I leave.”

Crowley steps inside. The snow showing no signs of letting up.

“Is that safe?” Dagon worries over the idea of Beez getting trapped in this cold, concrete building. “If you wait around too long you could get stuck here.”

“She’s right.” Crowley chimes in. “We all need to get home.”

“You both go. I won’t be here much longer.” They hold up their phone. “I just texted Aziraphale that you showed up to get Dagon. He’ll be expecting you home soon.” They walk towards their office. “Don’t keep him waiting. If you take too long now he’ll worry.”

“Fine.” Crowley holds the door for Dagon to follow. “But you better call us when you get home safe.”

Dagon hesitates, glancing worriedly to her new friend. Beez leans against the door frame of the office and gives her a reassuring smile.

“Get those boys home.” They shoo Crowley and Dagon with a flick of their wrist before turning to disappear through the doorway.

“Are they always so stubborn?” Outside, Dagon maneuvers her way to Crowley’s car.

“Always.” Crowley keeps his head down, fighting to walk against the wind. “The boys left the front seat empty for ya.”

Dagon opens the door, sliding onto the leather seats.

“You gonna play outside with us?” Adam asks before Dagon has a chance to pull her car door closed.

“I don’t have anything super warm to wear.” She slips her seatbelt over her torso snapping it in place. Then turning to her nephew. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Warlock slouches against the two backpacks crowded into the seat between his brother and himself. “Dad’s got lots of stuff that’ll probably fit you.”

Crowley guides them onto the road. “He’s right. My stuff might be long in the legs, but it’ll work.” He adjusts the thermostat dial. “Might even be able to fit you into a pair of Warlock’s boots. Kids got clown feet.”

Crowley grins in the rearview mirror, as the dark-haired teenager kicks the back of his seat.

“Sorry buddy, but it’s true. Don’t worry you’ll grow into ‘em. Growth spurts are crazy at your age.” Crowley focuses on the road. “Don’t kick my seat though.”

“Yeah, okay.” Warlock mumbles looking out the window. “You got weird feet too.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Crowley nods. “I do.”

The boys start to chatter about their plans for the evening, and what food they’ll be eating for Thanksgiving dinner the next day. Dagon half listens, part of her enjoying the chatter, but another bigger part worries about Beez. They’re tough, Dagon can see that. A survivor if there ever was one, but all alone in weather like this? What if they get stranded at the shop? What if they start home, and lose control on the road? What if they make it home and lose power?

Okay that last one is silly. Dagon knows there isn’t anything she could do to help that situation. Well, any of those situations honestly, but she really likes Beez. Like really, really likes them, and Dagon has always been one to worry over people, because no one has ever worried over her.

“What’s this jack-ass doing?” Crowley mumbles so low, Dagon barely hears him. His eyes flicking to his side and rearview mirrors.

Turning in her seat, Dagon notices the semi riding less than a cars length from their bumper. “That’s not safe.”

Crowley huffs. “Some of these idiots that pass through here don’t know how to drive. They get in such a hurry they don’t care about anyone else’s safety.”

The big rig’s lights begin flashing. Dagon turns to Crowley. “I think they plan to pass you.”

“Shit.” Crowley growls, and Adam gasps. “Don’t tell your Pops I used that word in front of you.” He lets his foot off the gas, going even slower than he already was. “There goes what little visibility I have for the next few seconds.”

Dagon faces forward, trying to be as little a distraction as possible. Adam and Warlock go silent as well, all realizing the tension of Crowley’s situation. As the semi pulls alongside them, large chunks of slush and snow pelt the Challenger, whiting out everything but the passenger side windows.

Dagon glances at her brother, his lips pulled over his teeth in a grimace, knuckles white on the steering wheel, as he fights to control the large body vehicle. Rear wheel drive is difficult to maneuver in bad conditions anyway.

The large metal monstrosity finally clears the vehicle and slides into its lane, continuing to toss dirty snow and water against the windshield. Luckily it’s not hauling a trailer, helping it to get by quickly.

The semi reaches a cars length ahead of them, when Dagon notices the flashes of brown loping down the hillside to her right. She turns her head, and seconds later it finally registers what she’s seeing.

“Dad, watch out!” Adam yells from the back, just as two deer leap in from of the truck.

The semi clips the doe, amazingly not killing it, but leaving it wobbly and confused in the left lane. The second, a buck that had been pursuing the other was not so lucky. The semi hit him head on, causing the driver to hit his brakes, skidding slightly before regaining control. It stops in the center of the road, still just a car length in front of the Challenger.

Crowley is given less than three seconds to decide whether to slide into the rear of the semi or aim the car into the field to his right. Turning the wheel to the right, the Dodge comes to a sudden halt, now stuck in a large drift of snow reaching above the wheel wells.

“Fucker! He didn’t even have to hit his brakes! Damn deer wouldn’t do damage to that truck!” Crowley yells, while shoving his door open against the snow, and climbing out of the vehicle. He slams the door behind him and as quickly as he can, through snow above his knees, starts making his way to the large truck.

“I’m gonna guess we’re not s’pose to tell Pops he said that.” Warlock sounds slightly dazed, as they all watch an angry redhead flail his arms, screaming profanity at another driver.

“I’m pretty sure he won’t want your Pops to know anything he’s doing or saying right now.” Dagon, Warlock and Adam all watch in wide-eyed amazement. Crowley falls twice, which seems to do nothing other than enrage him more. When he’s within ten feet of the big rig, the driver pulls away leaving the scene behind.

“Definitely don’t tell your Pops about that.” Dagon points, stifling a nervous laugh, as Crowley waves goodbye to the offending driver, both his middle fingers extended into the air.

She turns to see Warlock holding his cell phone up, facing the camera towards his Dad. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a video.” He shrugs, before sending it to his brother’s phone. “Never know when we might need some leverage.”

This time Dagon openly cackles. “You two are brilliant.”

“Thanks.” They say and smirk in unison.

Crowley, after collecting himself, struggles his way back to the car. He makes a lap around the vehicle, inspecting for damage. After he seems content with his assessment, Crowley slides back into the passenger seat.

“Asshole driving like that.” Crowley grumbles. “Running’ me off the road with my kids in the car.” He grabs his phone from the center console and presses the contact button. “He’s lucky he drove away when he did, because if I’d gotten ahold of him....”

Almost comically, in less than a second, Crowley’s entire voice pattern changes, taking on a much gentler tone. “Hey, Dove, we’ve run into a problem.” A pause, Crowley pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “No, no love, don’t worry, everyone’s okay. But we were run off the road by a semi.” Squeezing his eye shut, listening. “I promise you Aziraphale we are all fine, but my car is stuck in a field. I’ll need to see if Beez can get us out with the tow truck.” He nods absentmindedly. “Yeah, no damage to the car either. We just might be a bit later.”

The look on Crowley’s face is so unbelievably tender. “Thank you, Angel. I love you too.”

Dagon can’t stop herself from smiling at how full of tenderness Crowley’s words are to his husband. She can feel his love for Aziraphale pulsing in the air around him.

Crowley hangs up, astoundingly calm. Nothing like the raving madman he been just five minutes before.

“Aziraphale texted Beez. They’d just gotten home from the shop but thankfully had taken the wrecker instead of their Camaro.” He leans back in the seat turning his head on the headrest to look at his children. “I’m sorry for overreacting. I hope I didn’t scare any of you.”

“We’re fine Dad, I kinda enjoyed it.” Warlock pats his dad on the arm.

“Don’t grow up to act like me.” Crowley pats the tiny hand on his arm in return. “Act like your Pops, he’s a better example.” Swiveling his head to look at Dagon. “You okay?”

Smiling, she nods. “Was scared for a bit.” _Everyone is safe, no one is hurt, and in just a few minutes she’ll get to see Beez again for a little while longer._ “But I’m much better now.”


	4. Share Your Address

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beez saves the day and offers Dagon a place to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Ben Platt song. Enjoy.💚

**12:00PM**

Beez had finished inputting Dagon's information into the computer, then gathered up Crowley's old coveralls and their own set of wet clothes. They then pulled their Camaro in to the shop's garage, deciding it safest to drive the wrecker home.

Thirty minutes later, they are walking into their house on Tommy Been Road, which runs along the back of Jackson Lake. The road is an incline and Beez lives at the top.

Their house is small, with light brown siding and a black roof. It is surrounded by two acres owned by Beez, and the surrounding forest is part of the state park.

Stepping through the front door, they enter their kitchen and dining area. To the left is a living room and to the right, a hallway with two bedrooms on the left, a bathroom and laundry room to the right.

The back wall of the dining room is a glass patio door, leading to a small, red wooden deck, looking out onto the lake. The deck holds a table and six chairs to be used in the summer months, to entertain what little company they have.

Where their yard meets the lake, is a wood and metal boat deck, attached to which is Beez's pontoon boat.

All of this had been their father's. He had been the only real parent they had ever had. The only person besides Crowley and his family to accept them for who they are. He had passed two months before they had turned eighteen, leaving all he had owned to them.

They toss their keys on the long kitchen countertop, stepping past it, and walk to the laundry room. Tossing their wet clothes into the hamper, they make their way back to their bedroom, at the end of the hall, directly across from the laundry room.

After changing into a fresh pair of blue jeans, and a red and black hoodie, Beez reaches under their bed for the metal container they keep there. It contains a sewing kit and material for cross stitch. They like to do the uniform embroidery by hand. It saves them money and gives them something to do. Living alone can get monotonous.

Most people don't know about this talent of Beez, but no one asks. Except Crowley and of course Aziraphale. Beez and the blond share quite a few crafty interests.

Beez is just settling down at the table with the uniform and the container when their phone dings.

**Aziraphale:** _Anthony's car has been run off the road by a semi. Can you go get them?_

"Shit!" Beez hits Aziraphale's contact icon, while retrieving their coat and keys. The call is declined.

**Aziraphale:** _I'm on speaker phone with Anthony at the moment. I can't pick up._

**Beez:** _Okay, sorry. Tell them I'm on my way._

Beez slides their phone into their pocket, locking the house behind them. Thank someone they had decided to drive the wrecker home. They hate the thought of their friends trapped in this storm to begin with, let alone with how long it would've taken them to get back to the shop in the Camaro.

They're at the bottom of Tommy Been, turning onto 279, when they realize they have no idea where Crowley's car is located. Beez debates on calling Aziraphale back, but the wrecker isn't Bluetooth accessible and they really don't want to take one hand off the wheel to call. They come to the decision, that they will drive along Crowley's usual route home until they spot his car. Surely a cherry red Challenger will stand out in the white snow.

Beez is kicking themselves. There is so much information they failed to ask. Like if anyone was hurt. _Don't go there. If any of them were hurt, Aziraphale would have called 9-1-1, not me._

Then there was the last text. Anthony's car has been run off the road by a semi. Beez hopes someone got the asshole's license plate number. Whoever they are should lose their CDL for this.

Southbound on 93, Beez finally spots them. Nearly three miles out of town and only a few feet before the road on which the Crowley's live, the Dodge is stuck in snow up to it's headlights. It’s far enough into a field, Beez will need to hook Crowley's car to a winch to get it back to the road.

Thankfully, the snow is letting up, as they park the truck on the road's shoulder, making sure that it too won't get stuck. Crowley is walking in their direction as they round the back of the truck.

"You all okay?" Beez calls out, shielding their eyes with their hand. Now that the snow has stopped falling and the clouds have blown away, the sun reflecting off all the white is blinding.

"We're good. Cars good too, not a dent." Crowley pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "If you can get me on the road, I can drive it home."

Beez glances around him to Dagon and the kids in the car. "I think I'll follow you though. Make sure you all get there safe."

Crowley shrugs, tilting his head. "Probably be a good idea." Pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. "I'll get everyone out of the car and we'll get this done."

Crowley ushers Adam and Warlock out of the Challenger and into the cab of the warm truck. Beez attaches the winch to the underside of the car, while Crowley slides into the driver's seat to maneuver the vehicle. Dagon steps onto the road to direct oncoming drivers around the scene. Not much time later, Crowley's car is back on the snow-covered pavement.

"Can we ride home in the truck?!" Adam calls from the wrecker’s window.

Crowley looks to Beez, left eyebrow raised. They nod.

"Yeah! Don't give Beez any issues and let them concentrate on driving!" He calls back. Adam gives two thumbs up, before disappearing into the vehicle.

Beez unhooks and rewinds the winch. Looking to Dagon who now stands beside them. "You alright?"

"Really good, actually." She's flushed and breathless from the cold. "You gonna hang out for a while at the house?" Glancing up at the bright sky. "Give it a few hours and some of this might melt off." She gives a little shrug and a smile. "Might be safer."

Beez wants to smile when Dagon smiles. They like her, like being around her, and they don't normally take to people this quickly. Well not anymore, not since the last time.

They shake the memory from their head. This is different. It's most likely cause she's associated with Crowley and Zira. Nothing more.

"You're right. Might be." They steady their face, but the urge to smile shows in their eyes. "As long as Crowley and Zira don't mind."

"We don't mind." Crowley opens his car door. "We'll put you both to work later." He waves for Dagon to get in the car. "Now let's get going. I have an anxious Angel waiting at home."

* * *

**12:45PM**

Rather than follow, Beez leads the way to Crowley's home. Using the tow truck to pack down the snow, they give the Dodge easier access to move.

Dagon is still having a hard time believing how nice all of them are to her. She had showed up yesterday expecting the best-case scenario to be a brief visit with her brother and then on her way. The worst-case scenario, he'd tell her to get lost. She hadn't been sure what she should expect him to be like either. Dagon feared he'd be like their father, and hoped he'd be like her.

What she got instead was a healthy, capable, established family man for a brother and a group of people who are treating her like they'd known her all their lives. All of it is mind boggling and almost too good to be true.

"I hope I'm not a burden." Dagon stares out her window.

“Burden?” Crowley laughs. “We asked you to stay. And I’d very much like you to stick around.” He smiles broadly, eyes never leaving the road. “Can never have too much family.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Dagon says sadly. The statement causes Crowley to frown, so she adds quickly. “But I’d like to, ya know, have a real family.” That seems to help, his face relaxes. For good measure. “I promise to find a place as soon as I can though. Warlock can’t be comfortable on the couch.

“Ha!” Crowley chirps. “Warlock isn’t uncomfortable in any sense. He just can’t secretly sit up all night playing on his computer.” He gives her a quick glance before looking again to the road. “He’s more than likely getting more sleep now than he usually does.”

They pull into Crowley’s drive, Beez parks at the bottom of the driveway and off to the side, allowing Crowley room to get the Challenger into the carport. Aziraphale is on the front porch before Crowley makes it the last several feet of the drive. Dagon watches as Adam and Warlock run to him, backpacks bouncing as they go, and both excitedly chattering away to their Pops.

“Shit.” Crowley grumbles. “They’re going to make the accident sound worse than it was. They’re very imaginative.”

Dagon watches Aziraphale drop to one knee and wind his arms around the children. Pulling them close and kissing their faces, before leaning back and looking them over. “Better hope they don’t mention your full reaction.”

Crowley put the car in park, his eyebrow shooting above his sunglasses, and his mouth parting slightly. “Oh, damn.”

Beez is nearly to the porch as Dagon and Crowley exit the car. Aziraphale content with the wellness of his children, shoos them inside and walks very quickly to his husband. Pulling Crowley in close he wraps one arm around the red-heads waist and places the opposite hand to the back of fiery hair. Crowley returns the hug, nuzzling his nose against Aziraphale’s neck.

“They’re always like this.” Beez says quietly, standing inches from Dagon’s side.

“It’s nice.” Dagon whispers back. “How much they love each other.”

“Touchy-feely type yourself?” Beez faces ahead, but they look to Dagon out of the corner of their eye.

“Not usually.” She says thoughtfully. “And not as much as most people I’ve met, but with the right person, that would be kinda nice.” Dagon nods her head to the two men, lost in their own world.

“Hmmmmm.” Beez smiles at her appraisingly. “Let’s head inside and give them a minute.”

“They’re so gross sometimes!” Warlock’s words greet them as they step inside the door. He’s pointing to the window, sprawling across the couch.

“They’re in love.” Beez chides, while they kick off their wet shoes, hanging their coat beside Dagon’s. “That’s one of the ways they show it.” Stepping into the living room. “Don’t judge anyone for how they love, even if it’s different from how you do.”

“I don’t love anybody.” He waves his hand at the window. “Not in that way.”

“And you might never.” Dagon takes a seat at his feet. “Or you might. Some of us spend our whole lives figuring out what love is for us.” She glances up to Beez. “But Beez is right. As long as everyone involved is consenting and of a proper age, there are lots of ways to love.” She taps him on the nose with her finger. ‘And they’re all good and valid. So don’t judge.”

“I’m in love.” Adam flops into his Pops’ recliner.

Warlock rolls his eyes. “Please stop. I don’t want to hear about this again.” He gathers himself up and stalks to his bedroom.

“You’re eleven. You sure you aren’t in like?” Beez sets on the opposite end of the couch from Dagon.

“Maybe.” Adam shrugs. “Never been in either before. Hard to tell.” He pulls his feet onto the recliner, wrapping his arms around his knees. “But she’s strong and smart and really, really tough.” His smile spreads across his face, bright and excited. “She tried to join our starter football team this past season, but coach wouldn’t even let her try out.”

“Well, that’s not fair.” Dagon doesn’t even know this girl but is offended for her.

“That’s what she said!” He nods vehemently. “So, she went to her mom, who’s friends with a lot of lawyer type people.” He slides his legs underneath himself, leaning closer to the couch and his audience. “And BOOM! Coach has to at least let her try out next year!”

“Are we speaking of young Ms. Moonchild again?” Aziraphale stands in the foyer, bracing himself with his hand against the wall, as he kicks off his shoes. Crowley behind him takes his coat to hang it up.

“Her name is Pepper, Pops.” He gives his father a look, that best translates to the old saying of “Duh.”

“Apologies. I forgot.” Aziraphale smiles. It’s a closed lip smile, soft and loving. “She’s an amazing young person, I might add.”

Adam nods approvingly, standing from his Pops’ chair. “What’s for lunch? I’m hungry.”

“Well, I wasn’t prepared for this many people.” Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand, looking up at his husband sweetly, blue eyes wide. “Anthony, would you help me come up with something?”

“It’d be my pleasure, Angel.” Crowley kisses him on the cheek, and Aziraphale blushes. Moments later they disappear into the kitchen, and Adam follows behind, heading to his room.

Beez steps to the entertainment center, grabs the remote and returns to their previous seat. “What d’ya like to watch?”

“Dunno.” Dagon shrugs. “I like a lot of different stuff.”

“I like crime shows.” Beez scans through the television’s guide. They settle on the Investigation Discovery Channel. “Especially the real-life cases.”

“Cool with me.” Dagon leans against the pillows, resting on the arm of the couch.

“This where you slept last night?” Beez points to the pillows.

“No, Warlock did.” Dagon looks at her hands. “He let me have his bed.” She glances to his closed door. “I really should get out of everyone’s way after tomorrow.”

“Where will you go?” Beez seems to have forgotten their program. Their full attention back on Dagon.

“Stay in my car til I find a place. Shouldn’t take too long with an actual job now.” Realizing Beez might think she’s unreliable. “I’d still be at work, every day and on time. I promise.”

“How? From what I see you don’t have a cell phone.” Beez eyes staring into her. It leaves Dagon feeling a bit off center.

_Shit._ “Got a digital alarm clock. Just gotta buy batteries for it.” _Please don’t fire me already_.

Beez looks pained. “We’re approaching the winter months, you’ll freeze.”

“I did it last winter and lived.” Dagon doesn’t add the ‘barely’. With no source of income, there had been a few nights without gas in the car she almost didn’t make it. Causing her to eventually cave and do things she’d rather not have done.

Beez and Crowley are the first people to give her a job without a high school diploma. Hell, before she met them, not even fast-food joints would hire her. Having no access to showers made it hard to get any sort of job in food or retail. She’d been lucky yesterday morning, meeting a woman named Tracy, who’d given her a place to shower before she met her brother.

_That’s it!_

“I could stay at Tracy’s House.” Dagon warms at the thought of the sweet blonde woman and her eccentric boyfriend.

Beez’s face had been a mixture of sympathy and worry until that last sentence. Tilting their head to the side. “You could, but they get overcrowded this time of year. You’d want to leave room for people with kids.”

Did Beez seriously just tell her, she isn’t worthy to stay in the local homeless shelter? Dagon feels on the verge of tears. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I have an extra room.” Beez looks to the television, leaning back on the sofa. When scooted all the way back, their feet barely brush the floor. Dagon would admire how cute that looks, if her brain wasn’t trying to make sense of what Beez just said.

“It was my Dad’s.” They continue. “Until he passed.” Their eyes flick to Dagon. “You could pay me half in all utilities. We could be roommates.”

“Roommates?” Dagon like this idea. She likes this idea a lot, picturing herself and Beez being great friends. Best friends. Together all the time. But the part of her that doesn’t feel deserving speaks instead. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you well enough.” They wave their hand dismissively. Gesturing with their head toward the kitchen. “And I know you’re from good stock. What d’ya say?”

Dagon is stunned. She’s never met this many wonderful people all grouped together. “Yeah.” She stands. “Hell, yeah.” She walks to the doorway putting on her coat and shoes. “Thank you!”

“Where you going?” Beez looks genuinely confounded. “We ain’t leaving yet.”

“Oh.” She realizes how silly this looks out of context. “In the past two hours I’ve gone from extremely stressed, to the most settled I’ve ever been. And during the whole day I haven’t had time for a cigarette.” Pulling a half full water bottle from her coat. “I need a smoke.”

* * *

**3:00PM**

Stomachs full, Beez, Aziraphale and Dagon Stand on the concrete back porch. They watch as Crowley attaches a plastic sled to the rear of his four-wheeler with rope. Ropes are also looped through the holes on each side of the sled on the front and back as handholds.

“It makes me so nervous when they do this.” Aziraphale mumbles, spinning his cup of cocoa in his hands.

“Adam and Warlock love it.” Beez looks at him, a knowing smirk curving on one side of their face. “If I recall correctly, you used to love it too.”

They think back to a winter, before Aziraphale and Crowley had the twins. Beez had driven the couple behind them at high speeds. Aziraphale laughing in Crowley’s arms.

“Well, it’s different when it’s yourself being flung about, rather than your children.” He raises his cup to his lips. Mumbling around the rim. “Besides, I knew Anthony wouldn’t allow me to get hurt.”

“Do ya really think he’d let them get hurt?” Beez already knows Aziraphale’s answer.

Sighing, he begins to spin the mug between his hands again. “No. He’d never let anything bad happen to any of us.”

“Yeah, you should’ve seen him today. He was ready to fight.” As soon as the words are out of Dagon‘s mouth she freezes, eyes going wide.

Beez catches her attention, giving their best _What the fuck you doing?_ face.

“Oh?” Aziraphale says primly. “And who did he attempt to fight?”

Beez, who has been standing between Dagon and Aziraphale steps back slightly. Glancing out to one of their oldest, dearest friends as he settles his children onto the sled. The poor bastard having no idea the war his sister is on the verge of setting into motion.

“No one.” Dagon suddenly seems to have trouble swallowing. “I-Uh.” She stutters. “I just mean, he was really protective of all of us, and was fighting to keep the car on the road.”

Beez doesn’t move a muscle. Except their eyes, which they flick back and forth between their two companions.

Aziraphale seems to consider what she said and drops the subject completely. Dagon lights another cigarette.

They all watch as Crowley starts the four-wheeler, pulling the sled behind. He starts slowly at first and then picks up speed, the two children laughing behind him. As they disappear beyond the garage, Beez breaks the silence. “I’m gonna let Dagon rent my extra room.”

They weren’t sure what came over them when they came up with the idea. They’ve only known Dagon a day, but they seem a good person and definitely someone Beez could be good friends with. Plus, they’re tired of being alone.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be roommates.” Dagon says, obviously relieved they are moving away from her flub-up.

“Oh, Beez. How very kind of you.” Aziraphale smiles blindingly at them.

“Well it helps me out too.” Beez blows off the compliment with a shrug. “I’ll pay half as much a month in utilities now.”

Aziraphale gives them a wiggle and his side eyed smirk. “Of course. Purely selfish reasons.”

A blur of red, blond and dark brown hair zoom by screaming with delight, before disappearing into the distance again.

Beez scrunches their face in a playful sneer. “Don’t sound so sarcastic.”

Aziraphale places his hand over his chest in mock hurt. “Me? Sarcastic? My dear, never!” The flash of colorful screams flies by again and he flinches a little at the speed. “When will this happen?”

“We figured tomorrow after dinner.” They put their hands in their coat pockets. “I’ll get her room set up tonight.”

He nods, as the men in his life speed by again. “I’m going to heat up more cocoa and apple cider for when they are finished.” He huffs out an exaggerated sigh. “It puts my nerves on edge watching them.”

“I’ll help.” Dagon drops their cigarette into the bottle, setting it onto the porch.

“Me too.” Beez adds, the three of them returning to the warmth of the kitchen.

* * *

**10:00PM**

Crowley is tired. It’s been a long day, but everything has come together in the end. The food is prepped and ready to start cooking in the morning. He and Aziraphale will get up early, around 6AM. Jake is supposed to show about 6:30AM to follow Crowley into the woods and Sal will be there to help Aziraphale’s get everything together for dinner.

“So Beez agreed to rent out their other room?” Crowley slides under the blankets.

“That’s what they said.” Aziraphale snuggles in beside him.

“And you don’t think this could have any sort of bad outcome?” Crowley’s mouth and nose are buried in blond curls.

“Beez seems to have no intentions but friendship.” Aziraphale draws his arm over Crowley’s chest.

“That’s my point.” Crowley tilt his head back against the pillows. “What if Dagon becomes too obvious about her crush and Beez freaks out?” Then another thought strikes him. “Or, what if Beez reciprocates and later it goes to shit?” Aziraphale glances up to meet Crowley’s terrified eyes. “I could lose a friend, or a sister.” He’s beginning to panic. “Or both!”

Suddenly Aziraphale is kissing him. The tension that has been building in Crowley‘s muscles starts to dissipate into the soft mouth covering his own.

“Hush, darling.” The blond whispers against his lips. “Let happen what will happen. We’re all in God’s hands.”

Crowley fights the urge to roll his eyes. Six years back the Vanderbilt’s had become established at their own church. Aziraphale has gone religiously every Sunday. Crowley goes occasionally when he feels like getting up early on a day off. He believes, but unlike his husband, he doesn’t think God meddles in everything they do, just the important things.

He also knows now is not the time to argue theology, when he’s very close to getting a wonderful prize.

“Yup. In Her hands.” Crowley’s voice is hoarse.

Aziraphale’s soft body presses him into the mattress. And a thought occurs to Crowley, that love is the most important thing. So, if God were to meddle wouldn’t it be in matters like this.

Maybe it really is all in Her hands.


	5. Uncomfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagon makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a Halestorm song. This is the last chapter of set-up for everyone. The next one is just going to be Beez and Dagon getting closer.

**Thursday, November 27, 12:15PM**

Dagon is being led to the garage by Harry and Greg. The three of them tasked with setting up tables and chairs for the large dinner.

"So how many more people are coming?" She wonders if everyone will be comfortable eating in a big, drafty garage.

"Eighteen, I think." Harry begins to count off names in his head. "Yeah, eighteen."

"But there eleven of us already." She stares at him astounded. "No wonder they are using the garage. That’s twenty-nine people!"

"That number is only close friends and family. There'll be even more than that." Greg chimes in, correcting his brother. "We'll also have all the occupants of **Tracy's House** and a few people from Aziraphale's church."

"Tracy? As in Tracy Potts?" Dagon feels a surge of excitement at the idea of seeing the sweet woman again. Of course, she would be associated with this crowd.

Reaching the garage, Greg puts the key in the lock. "Yeah, ya know her?"

"I do. She helped me out recently." Dagon follows the two men through the door, immediately in awe of her surroundings.

The garage is huge, that much is apparent from the outside. Inside it is so much more affecting. The width of a football field and twice as long, it is split into three obvious sections. To the far left is a garage, with concrete flooring, a small fridge, and all the same tools and equipment found at Crowley and Beez's shop. A line of expensive cars set across the concrete, 1926 and 1933 Bentleys, 1946 Alpha Romero 6-C, 1947 Mazarati A6, 1949, Jaguar XK120, and a 1967 Shelby GT500. A large fold up door faces the driveway from that end of the garage as well as a small office in the back corner, used for storage of decorations.

Moving to the right, away from the actual garage area, the building begins to take on a community center feel. To the far right a stage. An actual stage! With sound equipment and what appears to be a karaoke machine. Several rows of seating, consisting of what looks to be fifty seats, face the stage.

In the center is an enormous open area, with room enough for the thirty, twenty feet long tables, leaning against the back wall.

If all of this wasn't amazing enough, the building is well heated and cozy. The area for the stage and the center are covered in a steel gray carpet.

_Oh, God, they're rich!_

Dagon had assumed Crowley and Aziraphale are financially stable. But up until this moment she was under the impression they are upper-middle class. She feels light-headed, reaching out, touching Greg's shoulder, to steady herself.

"You okay?" He asks, Harry runs to get her a chair.

"Yeah, just a little dizzy." She now understands Beez's suspicions in full.

_If they find out the things I've done, they'll send me away!_

"You need me to get Amy?" Harry slides the chair to the back of her legs.

"When's the last time you ate?" Greg holds her hand, helping her to sit down.

"I'm fine." She leans forward when he releases her hands, placing them on the back of her head, hanging just above her knees.

Harry runs off again, this time to the small fridge. He hurries back, moments later, with a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. "Our mom and Crowley have low blood sugar, and they get like this sometimes."

"Haven't been to a doctor in years. Maybe that's it." Dagon lies, reaching up to accept his offerings. How can she explain?

_Oh, I just had a panic attack because my loaded brother and brother-in-law are probably going to find out I have a criminal record for theft and send me away. Cutting me off from the only good family I have._

Thank someone, none of the cases she's caught have been in Jackson County. Most were minor, and the one that could've gotten her a felony, the judge let it drop to a misdemeanor, because she felt for Dagon's situation. But Dagon's sure what record she does have will be enough to have everyone questioning her motives.

_And Beez! Oh shit, Beez will never want to talk to me again!_ But she’d only stolen when she had to, when panhandling hadn’t earned her enough to get by another day. Maybe they’d understand, if she explained it to all of them.

Or they might discard her completely.

_I’ll tell them all of it, I’ll be honest. Yes, that seems fair. But after today, after I’ve celebrated one holiday with a loving family._ She wants to have one good memory in case she loses it all after her confession.

The sound of ATV’s pulling behind the building catches their attention. The sounds are followed shortly by Crowley and Jake excitedly swinging open the garage door.

“I should have enough for both.” Crowley says, moving quickly to the back wall, mounting his bow on hooks. Jake isn’t far behind him, the two men grabbing some thick twine, and wrapping it around their arms before turning again to the door.

“You sure this’ll hold?” Jake looks at the thin rope like substance in his hand.

“Used it last year, so it should.” Crowley pauses, catching sight of his sister. “You okay?”

“She got dizzy, think her sugars low.” Greg offers. “Ya’ll get something, did ya?”

“We did.” Crowley nods to Greg. Looking back to Dagon. “You didn’t answer. You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah I’m good.” She pulls the candy bar from the wrapper, taking a bite. “He’s right. Just needed something to eat.” She says with a mouth full of caramel and chocolate.

“Take it easy until you start to feel better.” Crowley lays a hand on her shoulder. Looking to Greg. “Wanna come see?”

Greg nods, following Crowley and Jake outside.

Dagon finishes her sweets, glancing at Harry. “You don’t want to go out there with them?”

Harry shakes his head. “I like to eat the meat once it’s processed. Don’t like seeing the animal it came from though.”

“They’re lucky it’s warmed up a little.” Dagon was grateful when the morning temperature had risen to 36°F for many reasons. The big one being that the roads would be clear for the guests. She’s looking forward to one in particular. “Don’t think it would’ve been tasteful to bleed them out in here.”

“They’d have used the shed in the back.” Harry seems to consider something. “They probably will anyway, so people like me won’t risk being faced with the sight.”

Of course, they will. Dagon is waiting for some imperfection to show from these people. So far she’s only encountered openness and consideration for others.

Well, except the semi driver. Dagon’s fairly certain they wouldn’t have received any open consideration.

“You ready to help me with these tables?” Harry waits as she walks to the trash bin to throw away the bottle and wrapper.

“Yeah, lets get this done.” She claps her hands together and follows him to the back wall.

* * *

**3:30PM**

Beez had hung Dagon’s uniform, with a newly embroidered name patch, in what will now be her closet, as the final touch on the room that has been empty for decades. Not that much effort went into getting it ready. All Beez had to do was change the bedding, dust the old dresser and put hangers in the closet for whatever clothes Dagon might need to hang up.

They had spent the rest of the morning cleaning the house, which was also a light job. Living alone means you don’t accumulate much of a mess.

The rest of the morning they had prepared food, having agreed to bring pasta and potato salad. In addition they’d been tasked with providing soda and water, but that was something asked of almost everyone attending the dinner.

Most of the snow had melted away, so they loaded the food and drinks into the truck, leaving their home an hour early, wanting to swing past the garage to switch the wrecker with their car.

Thirty minutes later, Beez is pulling into a semi-crowded driveway. They make their way past towering pines, to the expansive garage.

Beez is still in awe of Aziraphale’s brilliance. Not just with his books but also with investments. Over the past decade he has doubled the fortune his father had left him by purchasing franchise restaurants in Jackson, Chillicothe, and a few in Columbus and Ashland. Beez’s is the only small Business he had put time and money into while leaving it predominantly theirs.

He also offered the same good pay and benefits to all employees under his scope. Leading to, not only loyalty to the companies, but also immense profits. When you treat your workers with respect, that same respect trickles to the customers.

This kindness, Aziraphale and Crowley, also extend out to the community. Which is why, as Beez enters the garage/unofficial community center, they are greeted, not only by the owners’ family and friends, but every current resident of Tracy’s House and a few lower income families from Aziraphale’s church.

The atmosphere is festive, 30 long tables, draped in tablecloths of dark green, burgundy, brown and orange set in three rows. The middle and far right rows for eating, adorned in fall themed centerpieces of colorful leaves, and jars of mint and chocolate candies. The ten tables to the left, covered in food. Some Aziraphale and Crowley prepared themselves over the previous two days, some brought by family and friends, such as Beez. A large portion of the food has been catered in early that morning, to ensure there would be enough to cover for the people who hadn’t been able to bring anything. All of this extra coming from the Crowley family’s pocket. They know what it’s like to need, and they want to relieve that feeling for others

Tracy, Aziraphale, Crowley and Dagon busily set out food, as Beez approaches with a portion of their contributions.

“The pop and water are still in the car.” Beez sets their side dishes into a space Aziraphale clears for them. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“I’ll help.” Dagon brushes her palms on her pants legs. “It’ll lessen your number of trips.”

“Thanks.” Beez watches as Dagon steps around the table. “You got your stuff together for the move?”

“Yeah. I only own two duffel bags of stuff.” She smiles as they step into the damp air. “My car’s all packed.”

Dagon’s smile is gentle, but there’s something else there. She seems preoccupied, more distant. A thin line of stress creases her brow. Beez wonders if they should pry but decides that can be saved for later. Too many people are milling about, and Dagon may prefer to speak in private.

“Do all these people hang out the whole day?” Dagon gestures to the families and individuals making their way up the gravel drive.

“No.” Beez puts their hands in their pockets. “They’ll stay til round six, then the talent show starts.”

“The what?” Dagon’s voice drops an octave, as she turns her head to face Beez.

They bob their head in a way to communicate _I know, sounds silly_. “They have a family talent show. It’s mostly for the kids, but a few of the adults join in.”

They look up as a car drops off three children, a tall, messy looking boy, a prim, skinny boy with glasses and a beautiful young girl, with dark skin and fierce eyes.

“Heard Adam and Warlock’s friends were coming.” Dagon grins conspiratorially. “That one’s Pepper.”

“She looks like she could kick all those boys’ asses.” They reach their car and open the door. “I like her already.”

Dagon hums approvingly. Beez hands her the case of pop before lifting the forty pack of bottled water.

“That’s a lot heavier than this.” Dagon flexes the 24 pack of soda. “You sure you don’t want to switch?”

Beez frowns. “What? Because I’m smaller than you, ya think that makes me weaker?”

Dagon pales, her eyes blown wide. “N-no! I was just trying to help. I’m very aware of how impressively capable you are at handling things.”

Dagon looks like she might get sick, and Beez can’t help but feel a little guilty. It’s a learned reaction for them to establish their dominance when someone tries to make them feel weak. They know that wasn’t Dagon‘s intent, but Beez reacted before they took time to think.

“Sorry.” Beez spins quickly, walking up the drive. “Knee-jerk reaction.”

“Yeah, no.” Dagon rushes to walk beside them. “I’m sorry. My words came out wrong.”

They walk the rest of the way to the garage in silence. Back in the building they drop their bounty alongside all the other beverages.

As Beez turns to walk to Aziraphale and Tracy, they feel Dagon’s fingers ghost across the back of their hand.

“For what it’s worth.” Dagon watches them with large hazel eyes. “I think you’re very impressive.”

* * *

**10:00PM**

Aziraphale is quite pleased with how the day has gone. Dinner went wonderfully, the guests thanked him and Crowley throughout the meal. Afterwards, he had sent each of them home with as much food as they could carry.

Once all the extra visitors were gone, the talent show began. Along with many other talents, Greg and his friend Airi sang a lovely duet. It was absolutely beautiful even though Aziraphale doesn’t understand a word of Japanese. Adam and Brian attempted to rap battle, which was more than a little entertaining. Warlock played a piece on his saxophone accompanied by Harry on the piano.

As, has become tradition, Crowley closed it out by singing directly to Aziraphale. This time it was You’re My Angel by Brooks & Dunn. It’s something he’s done a lot since the wedding reception, to sing to his husband. Sometimes publicly, but mostly privately. After a decade together, Crowley continues to romance him. Winning his Angel over again every day.

Now, as they finish cleaning up the mess, Crowley shuts off the music that has been playing while they worked.

“Will you be joining us early in the morning?” Aziraphale asks as he and Dagon carry large garbage bags to the end of the driveway. “Beez is going.”

“For what?” She helps him haul the bags into the metal bin placed there by their garbage service.

“Black Friday shopping.” He laughs, placing his hand gently on her bicep. “It can be very exciting”

“I’m sure it can.” She tilts her head, an inquisitive look on her face. “I’m surprised you participate. Aren’t people from London more sophisticated than all that mayhem.”

He releases her arm, and they turn together to walk to the house. He can see Beez standing with Crowley. The garage has been locked, and they wait on the front porch. “I lived in London eighteen years, and in the States for twenty-three. My heart will always be English, but I’ve become rather Americanized, my dear.”

“I don’t have the money for it.” Dagon purses her lips apologetically. “Maybe next year.”

“We can give you a little.” Crowley stands by Beez in front of the large living room window, as Dagon and Aziraphale step onto the porch.

“About that.” Dagon slouches, hands in her pockets again. “I really want to talk to the three of you about something.”

Aziraphale glances to Crowley and Beez knowingly. The redhead smirks back at his husband, then waves his hand for his sister to continue. “What’s up?”

Dagon closes her eyes. “I need you to know, my past has nothing to do with why I’m here.”

Keeping her eyes shut, she takes in a deep breath, holds for a beat, then releases it. “I knew you were better off, the minute Aziraphale answered the door. But I was thinking, upper-middle class, PTA, soccer parent, sitcom family well-off.”

She opens her eyes but keeps them focused on her feet. “Ya know, the kinda people that have enough to live comfortably, but not so much extra they could support anyone else. Then I walked in that garage, and realized I was very, very wrong.”

“Yeah, they’re loaded.” Beez breaks in, no emotion showing in their voice. “Your point?”

Dagon flinches at the cold tone.

“Well, when I realized” she looks up to Beez, “that they are _loaded,_ I felt I needed to confess something. Something I hid because I’m ashamed, not because I have ulterior motives.”

Tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes, and Aziraphale wants to reach out to her, but waits to hear the rest of what she has to say.

“To survive, I sometimes stole things.” She breaks, her words coming in a rush between sobs. “Sometimes I’d pick pocket. A few times I’d break into people’s cars and take money or medication, which I’d sell.”

Looking to Crowley. “Never, ever took the stuff though.” Her eyes switch to Aziraphale. “Got arrested for stealing copper wire from a cell phone tower once.”

She’s pleading as she looks to each of their faces. “I never hurt anyone I swear. And I only ever took to avoid starving or freezing. I tried to get jobs, real jobs, but no one would hire me.”

She focuses on Beez. “Until now. And I swear to God, if y’all let me earn an honest living, I’ll never take anything from anyone ever again.”

Aziraphale smiles, hoping the compassion he feels for this woman is shining through. He had hoped this would happen and had feared it wouldn’t. “We know.”

“Huh?” Tears glisten down Dagon’s cheeks.

“We know.” Crowley nods to her, smiling. “You met my cousin Andrew today.”

“The tall African-American fella?” Dagon’s brow creases, indicating she can’t figure out the connection.

“The same.” Crowley’s smile broadens. “He’s a Statie. We had him run a background on you. He just told us about you today.”

She takes a step back, a look of pain and confusion on her thin face. “You already know?”

“We were waiting to see if you were gonna start asking for money, or anything suspicious.” Beez says, concern etched in their voice. “We were assured you’re not dangerous.”

Aziraphale steps forward, taking Dagon’s hands between his own. “Thank you for showing yourself to be honest. I hope you’re not angry with us.”

“Why would I be angry with you?” Her voice quiet and confused. She looks to Crowley. “Anthony told me you’ve both been betrayed and hurt very badly by people.” Looking back to Aziraphale. “He didn’t go into detail, but I know enough to understand you want to protect yourselves.”

Aziraphale wraps his arms around her in a loose hug. When he releases, Crowley moves in to embrace her. Stepping out of her brother’s arms she looks to Beez.

“I don’t like you that much yet.” They step off the porch, heading to their car. “Let’s go home.

* * *

**10:30PM**

_Home._ That word has repeated itself in Dagon‘s mind since following Beez off Crowley’s porch. She hasn’t had a home in two years, and the 38 years before that, the place she lived never felt safe.

“Your house is lovely.” She peers into the living room.

“Thanks. Your room is over here.” She turns to face Beez, who stands in a small hallway, pointing to the first door on Dagon’s left. “I’m going to bed. If you decide to go with us in a few hours, I’ll be leaving at three thirty AM, to get in line.”

Dagon’s steps past them into the warm room. Beez braces their hands on each side of the doorframe. “If not, you’re welcome to go to sleep or watch TV in the living room, so long as you keep the volume down.”

“She drops her bags onto the bed. “Thank you again. For everything.”

“Welcome.” Beez watches her for a moment. “Thank you.”

Dagon is pulling clothes from her bag and placing them on hangers. “For what?”

“Being what Crowley and Zira hoped you’d be.” Their eyes soften and with a gentle voice they add. “What I’d hoped you’d be.”

Dagon freezes, turning towards Beez. There is a tightness in her chest she can’t explain. It’s not a bad sensation, it’s a pull, a tug toward the small, dark haired person in her doorway.

“My pleasure.” She says just as gently.

Beez pushes themself from the door. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty impressive too.”

Then they disappear down the hall.


	6. Break In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some old demons are handled and the fileflies admit their feelings❤️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a Halestorm song. This is the end of this installment but not the end of the series. 
> 
> As always, love all of you for sticking with me. Big virtual hugs!! ❤️💚

**Friday November 28, 3:15AM**

Dagon is stirred from sleep by a thump in the dining room and Beez cursing quietly. She had fallen asleep on the sofa, watching a cheesy horror movie about killer fish. Now the screen plays an infomercial for lime scale remover.

“Ya okay?” She asked groggily, pushing herself up on her elbows.

“Fine.” Beez rubs their thigh where it had made contact with the wooden chair. “Tried not to turn on any lights, so I wouldn’t wake you.”

“How’d that work out for ya?” Dagon yawns.

“You’re cute. Ha ha.” Beez walks to the wall by the front door, flicking on the kitchen lights.

Dagon squints against the sudden brightness. “Guess I deserve that.”

“You still got time, if you wanna go with us.” Beez pulls a ball cap over top their messy black hair.

“Nah, I’m good.” Dagon turns off the TV, grabbing her blanket. Passing Beez on the way to her room. She pauses in the doorway. “Like I said, maybe next year.”

“We’ll plan a shopping trip of our own, after your first paycheck.” Beez pulls on their jacket. “You’ll wanna get stuff for your nephews for Christmas.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Dagon pats the doorframe. “Be careful.”

“Will do.” Beez picks up their keys, flicks off the lights and walks out the front door.

Dagon collapses under her warm comforter, drifting off immediately. She wakes a few hours later to sunlight peeking around the corners of her dark, red curtain, and the smell of bacon.

In the kitchen, Beez works between two frying pans, while taking sips of coffee. “Mornin’ sleepy head.”

“G’morning.” Dagon sits more heavily than intended on one of the dining room chairs.

“Bought you somethin’. Well a couple somethins.” Beez raises their spatula, using it to point towards the living room. “There on the couch.”

Beez’s living room is small. The television is against the wall to the right when entering from the kitchen, above which is a small window. The wall to the far left has a large bookshelf, filled with DVDs rather than books. The couch sits against the wall straight ahead, so that in order to watch television a person has to turn their head to the left. Although the angle is perfect for someone laying down.

Along the cushions of the sofa is a set of emerald green and silver trim silk pajamas and a fuzzy dark green bathrobe. Dagon stands in awe, hands tracing over the fabrics of each item. She picks them up, holding them against her chest and steps quickly to the kitchen.

“Thank you.”

“Thought it’d be more comfortable than sleepin’ in your jeans all the time.” Beez turns the stove off, carrying the plates of food to the table. “Hope you like them. Green seemed like a good color for you.”

Dagon hasn’t owned pajamas since she was a small child. She normally sleeps in just a T-shirt and underwear or T-shirt and jeans based on her surroundings. “Green’s my favorite color.”

“Awesome.” They point to the counter. “Grab those plates and forks and let’s eat.”

Dagon does as she’s bid. Once seated she fills her plate with bacon and eggs and pours herself a glass of orange juice. “We need to work out how much I owe you. Do you want a lump sum on a certain date, or for me to give you half as expenses come in?”

Beez considers for a moment while chewing. “If it’s not too hard, as expenses come in. Since the utilities flex month to month.” They shove an entire slice of bacon into their mouth. “I’ll write you out a list of when everything’s due.”

“That would help. Thanks.” Dagon settles into eating, clearing the food from her plate more quickly than what could be deemed polite. “Let me know what I owe in shared groceries I eat too. I’ll contribute, and restock once I get paid.”

“I know.” Beez grins when Dagon takes their plate along with her own to the sink. “I figured we both contribute groceries anyway. I’m not too picky if you eat what I buy.” They give Dagon a quick once over with their eyes. “Ya don’t look like ya eat too much anyway.”

“You’d be surprised.” She starts the water and soaps up the dishrag. “What’re your plans for today?”

Beez shrugs. “Probably take a nap. Who knows from there. You?”

“Go out and spend some time with Anthony and the family.” Dagon sets the newly cleaned plates in the drainer and start scrubbing the cooking pans. “Then nothing I guess.”

“Ya wanna have a movie night when ya get back?” Beez yawns, the dark circles under their eyes making it clear they’re exhausted. “Got a whole collection. Doesn’t just have to be a movie, I have a bunch of TV series too.”

“I’d like that.” Dagon’s full concentration is now on scrubbing the pan in her hand. “I’ll finish this, get a shower and get going.”

Beez stands. “See ya later.”

“See ya.” Dagon bites her lip. “We need to buy no stick pans.”

“Those are no stick pans.” Beez pushes their chair to the table.

Dagon glances up. “Well, they’re shitty. After I get paid I’ll buy better ones.”

Beez chuckles wandering down the hall. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, sweet dreams.” _Finally!_ Dagon takes a moment to admire her work, before placing the pan in the drainer.

* * *

**Saturday December 13, 6:42PM**

“I really don’t think that’s something you should buy without Zira’s permission.” Beez pushes through the front door, arms weighed down with bags.

Dagon had received her first full paycheck the previous morning, and after paying her part on the bills, wanted to go shopping for her nephews. Beez tagged along, saying they should go to the closest mall, located in Ashland, Kentucky.

“Ant said I could, so I think I’m gonna.” Dagon walks past them into her bedroom.

“No, Crowley said he didn’t have a problem with it when Adam asked.” Beez follows Dagon into her room to tuck away the gifts until they can be wrapped. “Then Zira gave a lecture on how it was a lot of responsibility for a boy his age.”

“I didn’t hear that part.” The corner of Dagon’s mouth curls up in a smirk. “Besides, it’s been a week since the conversation. If someone didn’t keep reminding me otherwise, I could say I forgot that part.”

“Just know, I’m claiming no part in this.” Beez begins to leave the room. “And I’ll make sure Zira knows it too.”

Dagon slides past them in the hall grinning. “Chicken shit.” Then rushes to the living room.

_Damn her and her infuriating cuteness_.

Since the second night Dagon has moved in, every evening has been spent the two of them watching TV on the couch until bedtime. Sometimes their daytime hours are spent separate, but that’s been happening a lot less each day also.

No matter how the day is spent, the evenings always find them here.

Tonight is Dagon‘s turn to pick. She tends to lean more towards fantasy, comic book-based or romantic comedies unlike Beez and their action, slasher, horror genres.

“This one!” Dagon holds up the DVD, she pulled from her shopping bag, which had just been purchased earlier that day. The cover depicting a human woman with dark hair, embracing a humanoid figure covered in fish scales. Both submerged underwater.

“ **The Shape of Water**.” Beez squints their right eye. “What is it with you and fish?”

“Shut up.” She scrunches her nose. “You’ll like it.”

She puts the DVD in and takes her normal place on the farthest cushion of the couch. Beez settles beside her. Over the past two weeks, Beez has slowly drifted closer and closer as they enjoy their evening. The first night they sat on the opposite cushions. But over time they’ve found it’s easier to share information about performers and making of movies on their phone if they sit side-by-side.

_Thinking of phone!_

“Hey you need me to help you add some numbers into your new phone?” Beez reaches for the smart phone Dagon purchased a few hours prior. They are still finding it hard to believe she’s never owned one before.

“Yeah.” She grabs it off the table by the sofa and hands it to Beez. “Thanks.”

Beez flips through the phone and Dagon starts the movie. Neither aware of how Dagon subconsciously throws her arm over the back of the couch, incidentally behind Beez as well. That is until Beez feels fingertips gently brush against their shoulder. Their breath catching for a moment, they glance to Dagon’s face, who is seemingly unaware of what she’s doing.

“Finished.” Beez gives the phone to Dagon, who mutters a thanks and set it back on the table. Her eyes never leaving the television.

A flurry of emotions and frightening thoughts bombard Beez all at once. They want to be held, to feel safe. They want that emotional connection of being loved and of loving someone back. They want to satisfy the pull in their chest they felt after talking to Dagon just a few hours that first day. But they also know how badly that went for them last time.

Then a small glimmer of something lights in their chest. Hope? Maybe it’s hope, they’re not used to hope, except amongst her friends.

Dagon’s from that group of friends now. And Dagon’s never given them reason to doubt her.

Before they can change their mind, and with what little bravery they have, Beez allows themself to lean into Dagon. Tucking themself against her side, resting the back of their head against her shoulder.

They hear her gasp, her body tense for a moment. Beez starts to think they’ve overstepped, but before they pull away, Dagon relaxes, sliding her arm from the back of the couch and around Beez’s shoulder.

They watch the movie, chatting as if nothing is different. Beez eventually dozes off in the warmth of Dagon’s embrace.

* * *

**Friday December 19, 7:30PM**

“I’m freezing my ass off.” Beez whispers, moving closer to Dagon.

They stand under the winter night sky in a line along the street. Adam, Crowley, Aziraphale, Mabel and Amy to Dagon’s left, Beez, Sal, Jake, Greg and Airi to her right. Little Mabel clutching Aziraphale’s neck as he braces the toddler in his arms.

Dagon catches a glimpse of lights, the sound of sirens and music in the distance. School had let out for Christmas break earlier that day, so tonight is the town’s Christmas parade, followed by the lighting of the trees in Central Park.

Mabel squeals as a fire truck drives by, it’s passenger throwing wrapped candies to the onlookers. The toddler squirms until Aziraphale set her on the ground, holding her hand as they both scramble to pick up the sweets before larger children get in the way.

Several more fire trucks and first responder vehicles drive-by, some throwing treats, some flashing their lights. Andrew put on his lights and sirens, with a big wave as he passes.

“Daddy!” Mabel jumps excitedly waving her tiny hands, as the Marching Oaks approach. Harry smiles blowing her a little kiss, as he leads the band down the street. He waves for his wife and daughter to join him. Amy picks up Mabel, who waves to onlookers as they continue the parade route together.

Crowley raises his camera, repeatedly hitting the shutter, camera flashing like a paparazzo, as Warlock approaches. So handsome in his marching uniform, plumed hat replaced with a Santa cap. His saxophone and body wrapped in tinsel and battery-operated Christmas lights. He smirks at his father around the mouthpiece of his instrument.

The last float, the one containing a waving Santa Claus, follows the band. As soon as it passes Sal, Jake, Greg and Airi head to Sal’s car parked nearby.

Crowley and Beez’s cars are parked near Central Park. So the two of them, Aziraphale, Adam and Dagon hurry the five minute walk to catch the lighting of the trees and the band performance, set to occur in the park’s gazebo, when the parade completes there.

They make it to their destination well ahead of the parade. Passing through the side alley of a church, Beez catches a glimpse of two figures, following closely behind. Their stomach drops as they recognize the men.

“Crowley, Zira!”

Aziraphale startles, clasping Adam’s shoulders. Crowley turns swiftly at the panic in Beez’s voice. That’s when he sees them also, immediately placing himself in front of his husband and son in a broad, protective stance

“What the fuck do you want?” Crowley snarls. Randy Hastur and Frank Ligur step into the illumination of the churches flood lights.

Both men raise their hands, palms outward in surrender.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya man.” Ligur’s deep voice drawls. “We just want to talk.”

Beez moves beside Dagon, lacing their fingers with hers. Looking to their left they see Aziraphale step in front of Adam, as well, positioning himself next to Crowley.

“About what exactly?” Aziraphale grips Crowley’s arm putting his body closer to the slender form as Hastur steps forward.

“You keep your distance from my husband and my son.” Crowley’s eyes are cold and angry, as he stares down the grungy blond.

Hastur steps back. “We wanted to apologize.”

Dagon looks terribly confused, not fully understanding the situation, but realizing there is bad blood with these men. Adam gives a frightened whimper from behind his fathers. Beez, Aziraphale and Crowley are a mix of terror, rage and bewilderment.

“You what?” Crowley slides an arm around Aziraphale’s waist, reaching back to take his sons hand, while ensuring the child stays behind him.

“We kept in contact while locked up.” Ligur glances to Hastur, then back to their audience. “Which led to a lot of soul-searching and realizing what we did to you was wrong. What I did was out of jealousy.”

“And what I did was out of a subconscious need to avenge him.” Hastur points to Ligur. “And pure frustration.”

Crowley and Aziraphale stare dumbfounded, Adam buries his face in his Dad’s coat. Beez thinks they may know what’s happening, but they wait for the confirmation.

Then Hastur takes Ligur’s hand, and it all becomes clear.

“So, you’re telling me.” Crowley moves forward, index finger jabbing the air pointing to Ligur. “You hurt my Angel. Broke him at a time he was just starting to heal, because you were too Goddamned scared to come out of the fucking closet?! Normal people don’t handle the situation like that!!”

Crowley shakes his head vehemently. “I might one day forgive that asshole.” He gestures to Hastur, never breaking eye contact with Ligur. “He only held me at gunpoint, but you laid your hands on the love of my life. I’ll acknowledge your apology, but I’m not forgiving you.”

“I agree, but quite the opposite.” Aziraphale looks to Ligur. “I can say, I forgive you for hurting me.” Bringing his gaze to Hastur. “But you holding a gun to Anthony’s head, is a vision I will forever have burned in my mind. I can’t forgive what you were willing to do to him.”

“What I think they’re trying to say.” Beez decides to add their piece. “Thank you for assuring us that you won’t bother them again, but kindly fuck off.”

“Fair enough.” Ligur turns to Hastur. “Let’s go home.” The two walk back into the dark alley.

They hear the band start to play in the gazebo across the street. The five of them gather themselves and rush to finish the night as they’d originally intended.

Crowley and Aziraphale with the relief of one less fear.

* * *

**Thursday December 25, 10:00AM**

“I’m not ready to die.” Beez whines, exiting the car.

Dagon smiles at them warmly, grabbing all but one package from the car. “Don’t be so dramatic. When he sees how happy Adam is, he’ll be happy too.”

“Merry Christmas.” Crowley greets them, stepping close to his sister and taking the gifts from her hands.

“Merry Christmas. Thanks.” She gladly hands the packages over. “Still got one more in the car.”

She hurries back to the Camaro, and lifts the shaking, yelping package from the backseat. When she turns to face her brother again he’s even paler than usual.

“What did you do?” His amber eyes watch her nervously.

“My God, y’all act like he’s some scary tyrant.” She’s gettting offended for Aziraphale. “Told him about it last night over the phone. Pled my case. He agreed.”

She sets the wrapped crate outside the front door.

Crowley eyes her warily as they step through the front door into the foyer. “No bullshit?”

“No bullshit.” Dagon nods and turns to face the living room.

Aziraphale is bent over with a garbage bag, picking up paper. “No BS my dear, she’s very convincing. But both of you watch your language in front of the children.”

She can feel the air around Beez and Crowley relax. She signals for Crowley to put the packages in the living room floor.

“Merry Christmas Warlock and Adam.” She smiles brightly at the boys. “Hope you like what Beez and I got you.”

“Merry Christmas.” They chime in unison, immediately tearing into the packages.

She had to coordinate with their fathers on what gifts to buy. Luckily Aziraphale and Crowley don’t believe in being outrageous with how much their children have. They want them to grow up, unspoiled by the excesses of money.

Amongst a few video games and some Nerf guns, Warlock was the most pleased with the acoustic guitar and a year’s worth of lessons Dagon had purchased him.

“Thank you so much. This is what I wanted most!” Warlock smiles and runs to hug his aunt.

Adam sits quietly in the floor smiling. “Yes, thank you auntie.” He says politely, failing to hide the disappointment in his eyes.

“Did you get what you wanted most.?” Aziraphale asks, sitting himself on the end of the couch.

Adam nods. “Yep Pops. Thank you all.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, because I have one more gift on the porch.” Dagon makes eye contact with Aziraphale. “And I’d really hoped it would be your favorite.”

She stepped outside and re-enters with the barking gift.

Adams entire demeanor lights up and he nearly falls trying to get to the prize in his aunt’s hand. Grabbing and placing it on the floor, strips of red and silver aluminum fly everywhere, revealing a small kennel. Inside a black and white mutt terrier.

“Thank you, thank you!!!” He shouts as he unlatches the kennel door, releasing the dog. Adam falls onto his back, his new best friend lapping his face.

“So, you like him?” Crowley asks, taking a seat beside Aziraphale. He whispers a “thank you” into his husband’s ear.

“Don’t thank me.” Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand. “What will you be naming our newest family member?”

Adam sits up hugging the puppy to his chest. “I think I’ll call him Dog. Saves a lot of trouble with a name like that.”

* * *

**Thursday December 31, 11:55PM**

“I need to ask you something.” Beez hands Dagon a beer and settles into the couch next to her. “How are we defining this?” They gesture between the two of them. “Us?”

In the month they’ve known each other, they’ve made it almost as far together as Beez has ever been with anyone. As far as they’d ever been with Chalky.

“I’d just like us to be us. Together.” Dagon sets her beer on the side table and takes their hand. “However you want to define it is okay with me.”

_Now the tricky part._ Beez thinks. _The part that drove most of the others away._ “How do you define, together?”

“This.” Dagon smiles at them softly. “Just like this.”

“And you’d be satisfied with that?” Beez watches her eyes for any sign of disappointment. “With me?”

“Yes.” Dagon’s voice as tender as her eyes. “More than satisfied.”

“Well.” Beez looks to the clock above the television. 11:59PM. “There is one more thing I’d like to do with you. But I don’t want you to get any ideas.” They drop their eyes to where they hold Dagon’s hand. “I mean, there’s things people expect, that I’m just unable to comfortably give, and.....”

Dagon places her free hand under Beez’s chin, gently lifting their face. “I’m not comfortable with those things either. But if you’re asking for what I think you are.” She nods to the clock. “It just struck midnight, and I would like that.”

Heart in their throat, Beez leans forward, pressing their lips softly to Dagon’s. They’ve not felt this safe and accepted with anyone in nearly 16 years, not wanted this much touch. A voice in the back of Beez’s mind whispers, _you’re in love._

And ok fuck they realize they are! They know they are, they just aren’t sure if they should voice it yet.

The kiss is chaste and only last a moment. When they move apart, Dagon’s hazel eyes are shining.

“Thank you.” Dagon’s voice cracks, and to Beez it sounds like I love you too.

“Happy New Year.” Beez cuddles against Dagon’s side.

“Happy New Year.” Dagon wraps her arms around them, placing a kiss into black hair. “Is that okay?”

“More than.” They lean back on the couch together, with all the hopes of a new year. And a new life.


End file.
